


Strands

by LadyBlackRose



Series: Strands [1]
Category: DCU, Smallville
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Polyarmory, Smallville-ish, Strands Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2011-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-16 23:34:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/170572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBlackRose/pseuds/LadyBlackRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ratings: R for Extreme Verbal Abuse, Angst, Previous Dubious consent, Past Noncon, Past Violence<br/>Warnings: AU universe with a very Mary Lou OC added.<br/>Disclaimer: The characters you recognize are not mine but the properties of DCU; I am not being monetarily compensated in any way for these stories. My reward comes in with the joy of sharing<br/>Word Count: 2,235</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. And So We Begin Anew

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Get Out](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/2705) by putigress2012 (http://putigress2012.livejournal.com/ ). 



> Summary: This story takes place after putigress2012 ‘s “Get Out”  
> and was created with her permission.
> 
> Question? How do you make amends for destroying a life? How do you survive breaking everyone’s heart, including your own?
> 
> A/N: I have been talking about this fic for a long time. Well here it is and I could not have done this with out the support of FictionalKnight, Putigress2010, Merfilly and Bradygirl_12. Thanks are so warranted to me_ya_ri who served as Beta blessing me with wonderful comments and direction. I could not have begun this without you.

Heaving his body out of bed the next morning Clark stretched and got ready to get up and out of bed for the day.

‘Well, one good thing about having John come over, I sleep soundly afterwards’ Clark thought.

Following a shower that was hotter than any human could have endured, Clark Kent, rising journalist at the Daily Planet stands in front of the hall mirror and reviews his checklist to make sure that he’s put himself back together, again.

Hair black, shaggy- needing a trim check  
Eye color green check  
Suit loose, casual, professional check  
Eyeglasses thick and nerdy check  
Keys right pants pocket check  
Wallet left pants pocket check  
Laptop in briefcase check  
Notes and research also in brief case check  
Work ID & Press Pass inside of wallet check & check

While still at the mirror and staring deeply into his vividly green eyes, Clark recites to himself:  
You will be a good citizen.  
You will be a benefit to your community and to the world.  
You will cause no harm.  
You will help as many people as possible who need you.  
You will endanger no one.  
You will think before you act.  
You will do good today.  
You will be good today.

Leaving his apartment with a smile and with his favorite song on his Walkman, Ricki Martin’s “Livin La Vida Loca” running through his head, Clark runs down the stairs then heads out into the bright morning sun. Whistling today’s chosen theme song as he leaves his Clinton Street apartment Clark stops to watch as a moving van with New York State plates parks in front of the building. He remembers that the McPherson apartment had finally been rented.

‘New neighbors, that’ll be nice” he thinks to himself as he rushes off to work.

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

Standing before the three way mirror in his dressing room, another man makes his morning preparations. Having slid his feet into a pair of Fratelli Rossetti loafers laid out for him by Alfred, his Butler/father-figure/best friend, Bruce Thomas Wayne, CEO and owner of Wayne Enterprises, and it’s many, many, many, subsidiary corporations, including Wayne Charitable Foundations and the city proclaimed ‘Prince of Gotham’ stares in the mirror at himself. Taking a long hard look at a man he is trying very hard not to hate at the moment.

His is not a bad lot in life. He has inherited Wayne Corp and helped shape it into a multinational corporation that employs and helps millions of people every day. His is not a bad face or form, if he is to believe his own hype, but it’s neither his economic success nor looks that are now the cause of this new rash of self-loathing.

“Get out. We’re done. Get out.”  
“I…I thought…”  
“You thought what? We fucked. It’s over. Get out.”  
“I thought we were friends…”  
“We’re co-workers; we work well together, most of the time. The sexual tension has been getting in the way, recently…and we’ve just gotten rid of it. So get your uniform and get out.”  
“If…if that’s what you truly want, I’ll go…”  
“That’s what I want.”

‘LIAR’ Bruce’s heart screams inside.

And Clark had gone, flown off into the arms of that thing, that thing who parroted all the filth any one Clark cared about had ever spewed at him. People like Ollie Queen, Lex Luthor, Morgan Edge, Jason Teague, and himself, Bruce Wayne.

“Oh, come now Clark. You didn’t really expect me to love you, did you? You followed me around like a pitiful puppy until I finally gave you what you wanted.”  
“I’m pathetic.”  
“Yes, you really are. I gave you what you wanted. What you needed…a good hard fuck.”  
“I love you. I love you so much…”  
“You’re so easy, Clark, so easy. That’s why I could never love you.”

The glowing green kryptonite ring, the blood, Clark’s tears, his sobs and screams of pain…  
Bruce stops dressing abruptly and barely makes it to his en suite before throwing up, yet again. He’s done this so often lately that Alfred thinks that he’s either come down with something or contracted food poisoning. Little does Alfred know that the only poison in Bruce is coming from what’s left of his heart.

“I love you. I love you so much… I’m a stupid, pathetic slut."

Bruce is certain that those words will haunt him for the rest of his life.

“Master Bruce, are you all right? Sir, I do believe that you should stay at home, at least until this has run its course through your system.” Alfred pleads from the bathroom door.

Inside Bruce finishes cleansing his mouth and inspects himself for damage.

“Alfred, I think I need another tie. Please pack me a few extras to take to the office in case this happens again.”

Sighing in resignation Alfred answers, “Of course Sir. Can I ask that you at least take your luncheon at the penthouse? I can have something sent over that will be better for you than any of the pre-processed…consumables out there.”

Acquiescing in the face of Alfred's concern, Bruce agrees to take lunch at the penthouse.

“I’ll be down in a minute, why don’t you call for the car? I can finish up here.” Bruce states quietly

“Yes, Master Bruce.”

It was a long ride down from the Crest Hill location of Wayne Manor to his Wayne Towers office in downtown Gotham. Actually is was an insufferable ride due to the fact that some jerk of a truck driver took the wrong exit off the highway and wedged his rig tight under a parkway overpass.

To keep himself from dwelling on his most recent failure, and possibly throwing up again, Bruce distracts himself buy creating mini-profiles of his fellow vehicular inmates based on the type of car they drove and what’s playing on the radio. At each new car he looks and listens before building a simple profile based on ethnicity, economic level, profession and demeanor. He then checks the DMV and Municipal database on his hyper-encrypted Netbook, one of the new CEO-Toys Wayne Tech is developing, to verify his accuracy.

About 85% of the time Bruce finds himself spot on with is profile but humanity does have a way of mucking up the averages. For example the time they pulled up next to a Mom-mobile blaring hard death metal music that turned out to be owned by a childless research librarian, or the time they pulled up next to what looked like hardcore bikers that turned out to be a motorcycle ride club made up of Catholic Priests.

Smirking, Bruce takes a good look at the dark red mini-van they next pull alongside. Looks like the standard model for that year with a custom paint job. Listening in, he hears what sounds like a talk radio station playing. No, it's a radio televangelist. Wouldn’t that make him a Radiovangelist? Bruce muses. It’s that happy positive guy out of Texas.

“Bruce, it’s a sad state of affairs when you can remember the names and MO of every serial killer or cult leader in operation over the past 20 years but you can’t remember the name of a popular positive personality,” he mutters to himself.

Looking into the vehicle, Bruce notes that the occupant is an African-American woman wearing clean cut professional clothing. He concludes that this woman is between the ages of 35-45 years old. She's either a professional or a Para-professional working in an office where she is either in middle management or a mid-level supervisor. She is a professed Christian and has pets. Researching her auto and municipal information Bruce notes that the owner of the vehicle, an Ms. Jai Marie Baker, is an organ donating Christian who works as a Nurse Office Manager for Madonna Perinatal Health Care in Garden City, New York and has applied for a Pet-LoJack for her Jack Russell Terrier named Cujo and two cats named Fendi and Prada.

Traffic stalls out once again so Bruce finds himself stuck sitting next to the red mini-van for a protracted amount of time. It allows him to ‘enjoy’ the minister’s sermon along with Ms. Baker. While listening Bruce reflects on the persuasive power of the Minister’s oratory style until something the Minister says strikes Bruce like the proverbial lightning bolt from on high.

 

“Ya know, not every shut door is locked nor is every closed window sashed tight. Sometimes what looks like an impenetrable impasse is really just your own personal obstacle course. It can be completed but it just takes a little more time and effort on our parts. Why you ask?

‘Oh Joel, you just don’t understand, I really, really want this house so bad. Why is God making it so hard for me?’

Well friend, for many of us, myself included, when things are just handed over to us, when they are too easily obtained, we don’t value them. For many of us, in certain specific areas in our lives, God makes us work for what we want or need so that we can see their value.

That pearl of great value costs the man the price of a whole field in order to get it. Jacob had to work for 14 years in order to get the wife he wanted. But when we have accomplished our tasks and the rewards are ours, how sweet that victory is because we now understand its value…”

 

Bruce is struck by these statements, struck so hard that he doubles over in the back seat of his car, catching his head in his hands.

“Mr. Wayne, Sir?” Calvin Hobbs his driver asks, “Are you okay Sir? Mr. Pennyworth said that you’ve been not feeling well lately. Do you need me to pull over?”

“No, no…I’ll be alright in a moment,” Bruce answers in a low voice.

How…who…it’s like that man knew what Bruce is facing, what was tearing him up inside, and answered him. It was pure coincidence of course, even if what the man said did make perfect sense. Admitting it to himself Bruce knows that he very rarely did things the easy way. He made it a point of pride to take the long way through certain situations for, like the man said, he loves the challenge. Also Clark did just tell me he loved me after I’d been treating him like a…a…no…

“NO, this is not Clark’s fault. It’s all my fault,” he whispers.

‘When Clark offered, gave all his trust, his loyalty, his love and adoration, to me, it was too much. I didn’t feel worthy and that scared the shit out of me, so I pushed, hell I stabbed, kicked, and threw all that away because I was afraid, Bruce admits to himself. And I lost the man I love to an abomination.

Resetting his Netbook for covert work Bruce begins thinking, formulating and planning. Clark had hoped that one day they could have been more than co-workers or friends but Bruce had destroyed that hope. He lost it with his cruel words and his harsh expressions.

“It’s because of my own stupidity that Clark’s door is closed to me and I may never be able to walk through it again. It took me destroying something so precious to realize its value and now it’s too late. The least I can do it try to help Clark through this. Maybe one day he’ll trust someone else enough to love again,” Bruce promises to himself even as the thought of Clark with someone else shreds his heart.

Bruce knows that he owes the man he loves at least the chance of happiness with someone, sometime.

Opening up his surveillance programs, Bruce sets new protocols for recording and alerts if the names Ollie, Oliver, Green, Lex, Luthor, Morgan, Edge, Jason, Teague, Bruce, Wayne, or any name not already catalogued in the database as a known associate of Clark Kent/Kal-El/Superman. Bruce next opens the video recordings of the rape. That’s the only way he can think of what happened that night because whether or not Clark initiated or invited it to happen, that man raped his Clark!

“Oh god, did I just think that?” Bruce exclaims

“You okay Mr. Wayne? Do you need some help back there?” Calvin asks.

“No, thank you” Bruce answers back.

“Nothing that you could help me with unless you have the Bentley outfitted with a time travel devise like in that old movie that came out with the DeLauren,” Bruce mutters under his breath.

Shaking his head Bruce queues up the recording and replays it repeatedly. He slows it down each time the Doppelganger changes, trying to notice any clues that will help identify the creature. Even during the last change, when the creature changes from ‘Bruce Wayne’ back to what may be its base self, Bruce is not able to tell anything about how it changes. Bruce types in commands into his encrypted netbook giving his even more complexly encrypted Cray based computer in the Batcave. He instructs the Cray to analyze the recording and compare it to all known shape-shifters or Doppelgangers in the databases in both the Batcave and in the JLA Watchtower.

Closing his netbook and settling back in his seat satisfied that he’s done all he can do for now Bruce notes two things:  
a- They are almost at the office and  
b- He is no longer nauseous.


	2. It's a Brand New Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Clark Kent, Lois Lane, Chloe Sullivan, Jimmy Olsten, Perry White, Bruce Wayne, Jai Baker, Prada Baker, Fendi Baker,   
> Ratings: PG this chapter  
> Warnings: AU universe, Original Character.  
> Disclaimer: Who you recognize belong to DC and the CW, mores the pity. If they did not there would be more love/sex/SM/excitement. I get nothing but pleasure from this.  
> Word Count: 5,642

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wondrous THANKS to me_ya_ri for her hand holding and midwife-ing my series along. I Wubs U Lots Babygurl 8D   
> It’s a new day for everyone; for one it’s a good morning and for the second a new chance,

April 29, 1999 - Metropolis, DE

Clark walked into the bullpen of the Daily Planet still whistling Ricky Martin’s ‘Livin La Vida Loca’ as he navigated his way around the busy office. His task made all the harder with his briefcase in one hand and the full take-out tray from the Starbucks downstairs in the other.

“Whoa there, sorry about that,” he apologized after being blindsided by one of the new copy persons. Clark rebalanced himself by spinning around in place dipping and readjusting his stance. This saved the Skinny Cinnamon Dolce Latte Grande for Lois, the Vanilla Latte plus Protein Grande for Chloe and two Classic Hot Chocolate with Marshmallow Foams for both himself and Jimmy from splashing spectacularly on the bullpen floor. Sighing in relief, Clark continued through the office arriving at his desk dry and unscathed. Deciding that this was a good sign Clark decides that today he’s not going to do the Completely Clumsy Clark routine, but will scale it back to the Somewhat Klutzy Clark routine.

‘Gotta keep the image believable, no one is Completely Clumsy all the time or they’d never survive to adulthood,’ he rationalizes.

“Clark, you’re smiling, and you’ve come bearing Latte” exclaims a very surprised Lois Lane. “What happened? Did you finally get some last night?”

Blushing furiously, Clark hands Lois her latte and some napkins stammering, “No, not every thing has to do with…you know,” wondering again how screwed up his life has become when this statement is the absolute truth of his recovery.

“Well, something did something for you Clark. Yesterday you were walking around here like someone had shot your dog, drowned your hamster and stomped on all your goldfish. Today you float into the office with coffee whistling Pop Music. What gives?” Lois asks around sips of her latte.

Ignoring Lois for the moment Clark signals Jimmy over to give him the hot chocolate he bought and asks him to please take Chloe her latte.

“Now that you’ve finished playing gracious host, what gives Smallville? What did you do or take to go from being zombie-man to singing Ricky Martin?” Lois presses.

Avoiding Lois’ question for as long as possible Clark stops to accept a kiss of thanks from Chloe for her latte while apologizing to his oldest friend here in Metropolis,

“It’s nothing Chloe, think of it as a peace offering for putting up me the other night,” he says Both he and Chloe went to high school back in Smallville and worked on the school newspaper together. Now they work together again at one of the largest most prestigious newspapers in the country. She is one of the few people who know his secrets, well some of them anyway, Clark thinks to himself.

Once Chloe and Jimmy leave for their own desks Lois turns to Clark asking:

“Do you know how to become a renowned Pulitzer Prize winning reporter Clark?” Lois asks. “You ask questions. Then you ask more questions. You never take no or silence for an answer and you don’t get distracted by diversions.”

“Oh really?” Clark answers while booting up his office computer and plugging in one of his flash drives. “Thanks for the tips I’ll keep them in mind.”

He smiles up at Lois, knowing that he can only hold her off for a little while longer. However, if he’s played this right and has stretched it out for as long as possible, then whatever answer he gives Lois will have alleviated all this tension he’s building up and she’ll just accept said answer, no matter how lame, and move on. Looking up with his x-ray vision Clark suppresses his smile as his next diversion stomps down the hall and should be there in three…two…one…

“KENT” hollers Perry White, Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Planet, and Clark Kent’s boss, as he stomps his way into the bullpen. “Where the hell are my articles because the tripe you handed in yesterday isn’t fit to wrap fish in, and I hate fish!”

“I just emailed you the corrected articles and I am working on another project for-” Clark begins.

“It’s about time,” Perry answers checking his Blackberry’s email for the articles. “Now get your butt over to the conference room. You too Lois. I need to discuss our Founder’s Day edition with the staff,” he announces as he marches off to inform the rest of his senior writers of the meeting.

“Congratulations Smallville. Looks like you’re moving up from the small stuff into the big league,” smiles Lois. “But don’t think that this lets you off the hook with me. What. Did. You. Do. Clark?” Lois demands with concern underpinning her curiosity.

Sighing dramatically Clark pinches his nose under his glasses before answering. “It really wasn’t anything special. I went home, made myself a good home cooked meal, worked on my articles then went and took a good brisk walk. When I got home I took a long hot soak in the bath and had a good night sleep. I woke up feeling much better this morning,” Clark explains. “My Ma always said that nothing keeps a body better than good honest food, putting in a good day's work, fresh air, exercise and a good night’s sleep. I guess with all this busy city living I hadn’t been taking care of myself or something,” he finished to Lois’ exasperated expression.

‘Buy it Lois, it’s got enough homespun cow-flop on it to grow a row of corn. Come on, give me one of your patented only you whatever-whatever-whatever Smallvilles and be done with it,’ Clark begs Lois in his mind.

“Only you can cure depression with hot biscuits and a nap Smallville,” Lois declares with disgust walking off towards the conference room.

Getting up to follow her Clark breathes a secret sigh of relief. Another lie believed.

 

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

 

April 29, 2009 – Gotham City, NJ

Three hours and eighteen minutes away by car, or forty-nine minutes by ferry, or twenty-seven by helicopter, another man sits at a desk in his office. The two men are as different from each other as night is from day. From the cities they live in to the types of jobs they hold, from their outlook on life to the strata of society they exist in. There is no doubt in anyone’s mind that Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent are very different men.

It’s only in their other lives, their secret lives, where they find common ground, a burning desire to see justice reign. It’s a desire, no, a consuming need, so strong that it turned crime fighting differences into operational compliments. Theirs is a need so strong as to open their eyes to the other ways in which they compliment each other. A shared need that allowed them actually see each other and to mayhap, fall in love.

Unfortunately, Bruce, so unready and feeling so unworthy of the love Clark gave so freely, lashed out at him with incredible viciousness and venom. Bruce knew in his heart that he could never be forgiven this transgression. The best that he can hope for is to make amends and he’s vowed to investigate and avenge Clark’s harsh treatment by those he once loved or trusted as his amends. This list includes people from Clark’s past, known enemies and one Bruce thought a comrade-in-arms.

Sitting behind his huge desk made of exotic woods Bruce closes the completed and annotated files Lucius left for him earlier that morning. Unbeknownst to Lucius, he had taken a copy of these files back to the Mansion to read and research weeks ago. It’s not that he didn’t trust Lucius; no, Lucius was one of the few people he did trust. Bruce wanted to perform a more in-depth investigation of this planned joint venture because it involved Queen Industries and until he has a better grasp on Ollie’s past with Clark, anything and everything to do with Oliver Queen was suspect.

Now Bruce has the time to work on his personal project: Clark. Opening up his Executive Netbook Bruce reviews the updates on his searches into the activities of Oliver Queen, Lex Luthor, Jason Teague, and Morgan Edge. Of course there was very little information available on Queen, Luthor, and Edge. All three had industrial strength PR machines to shape their public images into whatever shape they wanted. Luckily it’s already established that he loved a challenge. Jason Teague, it seems, stayed in Kansas and owned a couple of used car dealerships now.

While reading the information some of Jason’s personal life Bruce checks the time before turning on his earpiece so that he can listen in on the bugs he placed in Clark’s cell phone and around his desk in the Daily Planet bullpen. The first thing he hears is Lois Lane, a Pulitzer Prize winning reporter and all around pain in the ass when it comes to her interview style and penchant for being a trouble magnet extraordinaire.

“Clark, you’re smiling, and you’ve come bearing Latte,” exclaims a very surprised Lois Lane. “What happened did you finally get some last night?”

After Clark’s stammered response he hears,

“Well, something did something for you Clark. Yesterday you were walking around here like someone had shot your dog, drowned your hamster and stomped on all your goldfish. Today you float into the office with coffee whistling Pop Music. What gives?”

Wondering how Clark is going to handle this Bruce sat back to listen and began smiling at Clark’s careful manipulation of Lois. He felt a swell of pride when he heard Perry order Clark into the conference room for a senior writers meeting.

“Congratulations Smallville, looks like you’re moving up from the small stuff into the big league. But don’t think that this lets you off the hook with me. What. Did. You. Do. Clark?”

He hears Lois state the first part of this statement with both pleasure and surprise in her voice. Smirking he knows that Clark deserves to be one of their top reporters, his writing style and approach show that he has the chops to do the work once he’s allowed to do more than fluff and filler.

Bruce also hears Lois state the last part of her remarks with both curiosity and concern in her voice, which he shared.

Shaking his head Bruce smiled at Clark’s skill at stalling Lois with just enough diversions to make his totally hick-a-billy answer acceptable.

“Only you can cure depression with hot biscuits and a nap Smallville,” Lois declared with disgust

Even though Lois knows the truth of Clark being Superman she doesn’t know everything. Hell, until recently he didn’t know everything, still doesn’t, but Bruce has vowed to learn it all and help his Clark recover and move on.

Turning back to Teague’s information Bruce continues to read, wondering if Teague has matured any since being the high school jock or if he’s still the selfish bastard that used Clark way back when.

Noticing a faint pattern in Teague’s financial records, Bruce continued searching, arranging and rearranging packets of information until he could see what was needed to make these breadcrumbs look like paving stones. It seemed nothing much had changed with Teague.   
The Bat smiled.

 

&&&&&&&&

 

April 29, 1999 – Metropolis, DE

Sighing with relief, Jai Marie Baker leaned against the door of her new apartment having just relocated from New York. In her wildest dreams, Jai would never thought that this would have happened. After returning home from collage down in Virginia, all those many years ago, Jai never thought she’d ever leave New York again. Yet here she is, standing in her brand new home at 344 Clinton Street in freaking Metropolis, Delaware, the home base of the Man of Steel, SUPERMAN!

The unloading of the moving van happened very well and rather quickly thanks to some judicious flirting and generous tipping. After Jai asked the movers very kindly, they placed all her furniture in the correct rooms, set up her heavy duty adjustable bed, placed most of the boxes in the correct areas, and one mover even gave Jai a standing dinner date offer whenever she’s back in New York. Not bad for a busy afternoon.

Squeaking with joy, Jai bounced about as she surveyed her new domain. Standing against the door again she gazed upon her large galley kitchen with built in breakfast bar to the far right over to what will be a sun drenched dining area come tomorrow morning. Continuing on to the left is the living room that connects to a short hallway leading to the back of the apartment.

Walking through her apartment and down the hallway Jai stops at the large bedroom on the right that she’s set aside as her library/home office/cat lounge. Going inside she stops to set up the cat’s pet beds and the odor containing self cleaning litter boxes that just happen to fit perfectly in the room’s closet.

“This unused closet is the perfect place to give my ladies their privacy,” Jai asserts, “while keeping the darn litter boxes outta sight and outta the way,” she explains to the room at large.

Leaving the library/home office/cat lounge, Jai walked into her bathroom to wash her hands. She almost didn’t believe the realtor when he said the apartment had a full size bathtub in it. In New York, in the more affordable units, they have these little bitty things they call Apartment Sized Tubs. The small butt things are nothing more than oversized foot soaks with a shower head on top. No one older than ten years old could possibility take a bath in one of those things. Here Jai had visions long hot soaks in a candle filled bathroom in her future.

The rear-most room of the apartment is the smaller bedroom that Jai’s claimed as her own. Walking in and opening up the clothes closet she announced out loud, “Okay Ladies, time to come out of the closet,” to the occupants of the pet carriers inside.

The two marmalade tabbies, Fendi and Prada, stared up at their human, or in feline vernacular their Meow, and complained in the manner of cats.

“Finally, it’s about time,” merrrrrss Fendi.

“You are going to release us from these contraptions are you not?” wrrralps Prada.

“And that trip in your automobile, horrendous!” yeowls Fendi.

“I thought we were never going to get out of all that traffic!” meealps Prada.

“But you were quite handy in dealing with those moving men dear.” prurrrs Fendi.

“Yes, but do not trust that one who invited you out. He smells of dog!” growls Prada.

“Big, mean, dogs!” hisses Fendi.

“And you simply can not trust people who have been around those creatures,” merups Prada.

“Enough about men and their dogs, now be a dear child and open these gates like a good Meow,” meoaalps Fendi.

“Yes please do, I have no desire to soil myself in this thing,” Prada rrowwlls.

Jai responds to her fur babies, in the manner of humans.

“Okay, okay I know ladies. I know I put you through a lot, but we’re here now and moved into our new home here in Metropolis.” Jai apologizes. “I personally didn’t think that we’d ever leave New York. I mean when we moved out of Mommy’s house, again, I thought that we’d move somewhere else in New York City, not clear down here to Delaware,” Jai continued to explain.

Fendi and Prada press their paws against the gates of their carriers wanting to be let out so that they can find the litter boxes before exploring the new apartment but Jai continues talking.

“Actually, I thought that it would take the Voice of God telling me to:

 

Cleve away from thy Father’s house and travel along the highways and byways until thou comest upon a city bright and fair wherein   
I will establish thee to do My Holy Will,”

intoned Jai in her best Ten Commandments Charles Hesston voice. The rendition is accompanied with grand gestures and dramatic pauses that quickly dissolve into a mass of giggles.

“Instead, what He did was He blessed me with a near perfect job working in a Woman’s Health and Maternity Clinic. I even get to go and provide services out in the community! Then He blessed us with this great place at a price I could have never gotten at home. I mean the rent on a two-bedroom first floor apartment in New York cost the same as a mortgage on a small house. So what the previous occupants died in here? They died together, in bed, in their sleep, after sixty-five years of marriage. I don’t find that spooky. I think it’s rather romantic. Of course I am not sleeping in that bedroom,” she tells the cats.

Prada and Fendi sat staring at their Meow while discussing her quietly in the manner of cats.

“Usually she can be so clever for a Meow,” ruupps Prada.

“Yes, usually all we have to do is vocalize to get her to act,” merres Fendi.

“Poor dear, I guess she has become overly excited by this relocation and then having to interact with that appalling dog man…” meorols Prada.

“And do not forget her new employment, and her appointment,” bruups Fendi.

“You are correct; we must be patient with our Meow, but not too patient as I will surely soil myself in this silly box!” Prada growls.

“I agree. Since today is not one of Meow’s clever days we will have to employ influence to alert her of our need,” Prada purowls.

Turning as if choreographed, Prada and Fendi turn to their still babbling Meow; take a deep breath, and PURRRRRRRR!”

“But the real reason I know we’re suppose to be here,” Jai addresses Prada as she reaches for the pet carrier door, “is that Joel Osteen sermon we heard. You remember the one I’m talking about Prada.”

Jai continued her conversation with Prada after picking her up and walking with her into the library/home office/cat lounge where Jai placed the cat beds and litter boxes.

“You were in the room with me that Sunday night when Pastor Joel started preaching about the doors God opens, the doors He shuts temporarily, and the doors God locks shut. That’s what really moved me to do this, it felt like God was telling me that it was okay to leave New York and that He had something special planned for us here in Metropolis,” Jai mused as she walked back to her bedroom. Opening Fendi’s pet carrier Jai continued remembering out loud.

“That sermon was so moving that I downloaded the podcast and listened to it almost every day. I even played it for us on the drive down from home," Jai explained to Fendi as she stalked around the room sniffing everything in sight. "I'm glad that I did. The traffic was so bad that the butterflies in my stomach put on their combat boots and might have convinced me to turn around if I hadn’t been listening to Pastor Joel. But we made it to Metropolis and I had enough time to drop you guys off here before heading in to the clinic to sign the last of my employment paperwork and medical forms.”

Sighing as only a true fangirl can sigh, Jai concluded to the room at large, “And the gravy on this biscuit is that Metropolis is the home base of one of my favorite superheroes. Maybe I’ll get to see Superman in action one day like the time we saw Wonder Woman fly over Midtown last year.”

After setting up her bedroom and the bathroom, Jai grabs a light jacket and her shopping cart while she searches on her Smartphone for the closest grocery store in the neighborhood. Jai heads outside noting that she has a choice of stores. There is a local grocery store two blocks to her right and a Kroger’s four and a half blocks to her left. Decisions, decisions. Just when she is about to make the right Jai spots a cute but rumpled man heading for the apartment building. He was walking towards the front door when he stopped, snapped his fingers and continued walking down the street heading left.

‘Well it seems that cute-man lives here and going to the left store too,’ Jai says to herself. ‘Since he lives here I’ll follow him. Of course with my luck he’s heading off to the dry cleaners instead, but maybe not considering the condition of that suit he’s wearing.’ Jai thinks following him towards Kroger’s Market.

 

&&&&&&&&

 

April 29, 1999 – Metropolis, DE

Marveling at actually getting off work on time today Clark decides to go straight to the grocery store before going inside and putting down his briefcase.

‘If I went in now, I’d just get too comfortable to come out again. I want a real meal tonight. Like I told Lois earlier, I wasn’t raised on take out and I’m sick to death of it,’ Clark thinks to himself.

Inside Kroger’s he picked up a hand held shopping basket and had a pleasant word or two with Mr. Hazelstein, the green grocer. Clark cruises through the store picking up a bagged salad, a pack of tomatoes, bacon bits, rolls, a steak, some fresh broccoli, a few onions and potatoes. He smiled at his basket's contents. Yep, it’s going to be a steak and potatoes night.

When Jai reaches the Kroger’s she grabs a store shopping cart hanging her smaller portable cart to the hooks on the back of the store cart. Jai works her way through the store picking up the basics and enough staples to keep them from having to order out until she can get some good recommendations on whom to call for take out. Wandering down the condiment aisle Jai is pleasantly surprised to see that they carry her favorite brand of croutons. Unfortunately they are on the top shelf and at 5’6”, and wearing sneakers, not heels, the top shelf is way above her head. Dilemmas, dilemmas.

Wandering down the condiment aisle to get more ranch dressing Clark spots the woman he saw standing in front of the apartment building earlier.

‘I bet she’s the new neighbor,’ he thought. He paused. 'She looks like she’s trying to decide on something so I’ll leave her alone.’

Clark gave his new neighbor a good look over noting that she’s 5 foot 6 inches tall with skin the color of smooth, creamy chocolate. Her hair was styled in braids pulled back up into a ponytail. She weighed around 350 lbs but had a classically Rubenesque hourglass figure so she carried it well. By the looks of the manicured hand and its lack of rings placed on her hip she’s not married either. Clark thought irreverently that Bruce would be shocked by his observations as he thinks that he’s the only observant person on the face of the earth.

‘Of course Bruce would have been able to tell both her religious and gender preference,’ Clark snipes to himself.

Vexed with her predicament, Jai wonders just how much of a mess she’ll make if she just threw a bottle of mustard at the boxes of croutons. She notices the guy who might be her neighbor, Mr. Rumpled Man, standing down the aisle staring at the salad dressing.

‘Well, looks like it’s time to meet my possible new neighbor’ Jai decided. Turning, she walked over to Mr. Rumpled Man.

“Excuse me,” she asked the man who could be her neighbor. “I was wondering if you could give me a hand?”

“Oh hello. Ah sure, what can I do for you?” Clark responded, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Pointing up Jai indicated the boxes of croutons on the top shelf. “I wanted to get a couple boxes of those Croton’s Croutons but it seems that I am too…undertall to reach them. Could you reach up there and hand me a box or three, please?” she asks politely.

Smiling at the request, Clark reached up and easily brings down three boxes of croutons, handing them to her. “You must really like salad” he commented.

“Oh no, I crush them up and mix with breadcrumbs to use when making meatloaf or frying chicken,” she answered smiling brightly. “That’s why I need so many boxes.”

“That’s interesting. My Ma taught me to use slices of white bread when making meatloaf. Maybe I’ll try using croutons and breadcrumbs one day,” Clark answers before looking shocked that he’d said so much. “I…I’ll leave you to your shopping now, have a good day,” he says blushing lightly before walking off into the grocery store.

‘Cute, rumpled, shy, cooks and listens to his mother: interesting,’ Jai thinks before walking off to complete her own shopping.

Whether by providence or coincidence Jai found herself on the same checkout line as her cute possible neighbor. She turned around smiling at him again while the clerk rang up her groceries. Turning back she realized that she’s bought far more than she had planned, not that she couldn’t pay for it all. Getting everything home is going to be a challenge. Moving off the line Jai attempts to consolidate all her packages in her little shopping cart for the long walk home.

“Hi,” said a now familiar voice behind her. Familiar or not Jai jumps about a foot off the ground when she heard someone behind her.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you. I just saw that you were having a little difficulty getting all your groceries in your cart,” Clark apologized.

“Yeah, I got all excited and bought more than I have room for in my cart," Jai groaned in frustration. "Now I just have to get it all home.”

“Let me help. I didn’t buy that much,” offers Clark while holding up his three shopping bags.

“Well, ummmm, I don’t know, I mean…I don’t even know your name or anything,” Jai hesitated with her New York City forged single-urban-female-paranoia coloring her tones.

“Sorry, please, let me introduce myself. My name is Clark Kent, I live not too far from here, actually I believe we’re neighbors,” Clark begins. “I saw you in front of the apartment building where I live when I was on my way here to the store.”

Not yet convinced that Mr. Rumpled was harmless Jai answered, “And I saw you, I also saw you walk past the building.”

“Yeah, today was the first day in a long time that I actually got out of work on time. So I came here to get something to make for dinner. Been eating too much take-out lately,” Clark explained smiling.

“Well you did mention that your Mom taught you how to make meatloaf…” Jai starts.

“My Ma and Pa taught me many things, including being nice to the new neighbors,” rejoins Clark.

“Oh Clark, sorry dear,” a blue haired senior woman apologized to Jai while interrupting their conversation. “Clark, Betty wanted me to thank you for all you did for Mr. Snuggles last week,”

“You’re welcome Muriel, it was my pleasure. Say hello to Betty and Mr. Snuggles for me,” Clark smiles while holding open the door for his neighbor.

“Mr. Snuggles?”

“Their cat, his name is Mr. Snuggles,” Clark answers blushing faintly.

Whether the blush is for the cat or for himself has Jai wondering. “And you what, cat sit for them?”

“Only when they have to go out of town for a while,” Clark answers

“Let’s see now, you’re clothing casual, shy, you cook, cat sit for elderly ladies and listen to your mother,” Jai lists smiling. “And I now know your name Mr. Kent…” she continues.

“Please, call me Clark.”

“Okay, Clark, hi, my name is Jai Baker. Call me Jai. Pleased to meet’cha,” Jai introduces herself with a nod since her hands were full. “So, Clark, could you give a new neighbor a hand and help her get her groceries home?” Jai asks.

“I’d be very happy to give you a hand,” Clark agrees.

Smiling at each other they sort out their bags and start walking home.

 

Once back at the apartment building Jai opens the door to apartment 1A, inviting Clark inside. “Thanks again for the help. I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time or anything,” Jai asks while taking her bags out of Clark’s hands. “I mean, I don’t know if you had any other errands to run or anything.”

“Oh no, I was coming straight home from the store,” he assures Jai. “And I’m just upstairs and across the hall in 3D if you need anything or if you forgot to pick up something.”

“Trust me, with this haul, I don’t think I missed any of the basics. Oh look, here come my welcoming committee. Clark, let me introduce you to my girls, this is Fendi the brave,” Jai states while stooping down to scratch Fendi behind her ear. “and that’s Prada the cautious behind the couch,” Jai finishes standing up to fish out the cat treats out of her bags.

“So, do I have to pencil them in on my sitters list?” Clark smiles as Fendi sniffs around his feet and legs.

“No, I have timed feeders, waterers and automatic litter boxes. If I have to be away for longer than that I take them to my Mom or my brother John but thank you for the offer,” she answers.

“Well if you need me, I do come with references, just ask Mr. Snuggles,” Clark quips causing Jai to chuckle.

“I don’t want to keep you from that steak dinner you have planned so I guess I’ll be seeing you around and about then,” Jai smiles dropping a quick hug around Clark’s waist.

Surprised at such open affection after all the suspicion back at the grocery store, Clark once again marvels at the strangeness of people who grow up in big cities. “Sure, I’m sure we will, Jai. Welcome to Metropolis,” a smiling and blushing Clark states.

“How did you know I wasn’t from Metropolis?” Jai asks.

“Your accent, you’re from New York, right? From one of the outer boroughs?” Clark asks.

“Yeah, I’m from Queens. Good ear though,” Jai answers.

“It comes in handy in my job. I’m a reporter, newspaper, for the Daily Planet,” Clark said.

Realizing that he is rambling and wanting to stop before he begins babbling Clark wishes his new neighbor good bye and backs towards the door, almost making it out of her apartment unscathed when his foot catches on the edge of a box of CDs causing him to fall backwards, landing on his butt in a sprawl.

“Oh Clark! Are you okay? I’m so sorry about that,” Jai cries, rushing over to help Clark off the floor.

“Oh no, I’m okay, don’t…” Clark starts while getting up quickly causing him to bump gently into Jai. Of course bumping gently into the Man of Steel feels like crashing into anyone else with the same predictable results. Jai hits the floor on her butt across from Clark.

“Oh my, are you okay?” asks Clark.

“Oh shit, are you okay?” asks Jai.

“I’m fine, are you okay?” asks Clark.

“I’m fine, are you okay?” asks Jai.

At first only smiling at their antics, Jai dissolves into giggles that quickly evolve into infectious peals of laughter. Unable to stop himself Clark joins in on the mirth while getting up off the floor and helping Jai do the same. Walking Clark to her door, still giggling, Jai once again thanks him for all his help today.

“Hey when I’ve gotten the place together, come on over for dinner sometime. It’s the least I can do after you helped me home with the food then get bum rushed by a rabid box of CDs,” Jai offers.

“Thank you, I’d like that. Have a good night Jai,” Clark says heading for the stairs carrying all his bags up to his apartment.

‘Well that was interesting,’ Clark thinks to himself while walking up the stairs. ‘I established my self as the building gentleman and resident klutz and I wasn’t even trying. I gotta wonder about myself sometimes,’ he finishes while entering his apartment.

 

‘Well that was interesting,’ Jai thinks to herself while locking up for the night. Crawling back in bed she leans down to check on her girls who have decided that the floor between the dresser and the wall is their spot.

“Well that was quick, our clever girl found a local TomMeow already,” Fendi murrs to Prada.

“Did he smell appropriate? Does he come with references?” Prada rrumphs to Fendi.

“Lervvrf, protector of two older Meows, also called Mr. Snuggles, vouches for his kindness and generosity with fishy-snacks,” Fendi reports in a purrlf to Prada.

“An adequate start for a new TomMeow. We will conduct a complete background check just as soon as we can, but for now…” Prada prrrowls to Fendi.

“Do you think this TomMeow will be placed under our protectorate?” Fendi purrs to Prada.

“We will just have to wait to see what HE says about that. We must first protect our Meow while she completes her new assignment,” Prada purrs in answer.

She smiles as she watches them groom, purr and vocalize. Answering them Jai reviews the events of her day. “Today we moved into our new Metropolis apartment,” she explains to both Fendi and Prada. “I got a standing date with a cute hulk of a man back in New York, went grocery shopping and met two of my new neighbors. One is a nice older lady who has a cat of her own named Mr. Snuggles. The other is a rumpled, cute, shy but klutzy gentleman reporter who cooks, cat-sits and listens to his mother. I wonder what else God has planned for us here…”


	3. One Down, Three to Go!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beta: me_ya_ri  
> Characters: Bruce Wayne-Batman, Ollie Queen-Green Lantern, mentions of Clark Kent, Black Canary, Jason Teague and Lex Luthor, as well as a bevy of OCs including a Troop of “Sunshine Rangers”  
> Continuity: DCU Comicverse/Smallville/AU  
> Ratings: PG this chapter  
> Warnings: AU universe, Original Character.  
> Disclaimer: Who you recognize belong to DC and the CW, mores the pity. If they did not there would be more love/sex/SM/excitement. I get nothing but pleasure from this.  
> Word Count: 2,231  
> Summary: Batman takes out the first of Clark’s offenders

May 9, 1999 Watchtower Satellite,   
Geo-synchronous orbit over International Waters, Pacific Ocean, Planet Earth

Batman loved working at the Watchtower.

‘I constructed it using the most experimental advances in optical computing, compressed programming, electronics, robotics, fiber optics, communications, and surveillance.’ He mused contently

Batman loved working at the Watchtower.

‘Working out here makes the Mission so much simpler. Being outside of all Earth’s national territories means that there are very few regulations restricting us or the use of our equipment; therefore I can ramp up the speed, increase our security protocols and allow us greater access to databases and systems both on and off planet.’

Batman really, really loved working at the Watchtower.

‘I wasn’t so sure about the direction that interior designer had in mind for this décor. His use of coloring and furnishings was not really surprising given who won the bid. But, over all Vern gave the satellite an aesthetically pleasing and mildly futuristically Star Wars/Star Trek/Farscape feel about it. Took a while but it’s finally grown on me. Despite all that cute ‘it’s whimsical with a pop of color’ nonsense, Vern created an incredibly corporate atmosphere. And hell if he wasn’t right when he insisted that all this high tech equipment plus futuristic-ish décor would place the League in a more professional mindset when they…’

“Oh, there you are Batman,” states a bright and cheery Green Arrow.

“Well, there went the professional mindset,” Batman groused aloud but quietly to himself. ‘Maybe if I ignore him he’ll get bored and go away,’ he hoped in vain.

“Batman, uhmmmm, you see, the others…*we*…have noticed that you’ve been acting even more broody and…Battish than usual and they…*we*…are concerned…about you, that is,” Green Arrow said hesitantly.

Batman continues ignoring Green Arrow. He knows that outside of Wally, who’s the Flash for fuck's sakes, Green Arrow has a the shortest attention span of all the League for anything other than archery, eco-friendly leftist politics, and the Black Canary… and not always in that order.

“I know that usually they…*we*…send Big Blue in to see about you when you get this way ‘cause with all his indestructibility and super speed and everything you probably couldn’t do him much harm. But since he’s not been available for weeks, they, I mean, *we* sent me, I mean, I came, because, you know with my charm and sparking personality you couldn’t possibly hurt me. Either that or they sent me because I’m the most expendable,” the Green Arrow attempts to joke lightheartedly.

“That makes it easier. Now I don’t have to hide the body after I kill you,” Batman states so matter-of-factly that it’s actually scarier than his patented growl.

It takes quite a bit of inner fortitude for Green Arrow not to take a step back at Batman’s declaration of intent. But Ollie knows Batman, has known him for years in and out of uniform. Bruce may growl and glare and bite your head off at regular intervals but when he gets quiet, he’s up to something big. Getting in Bruce’s way when he’s up to 'something big' has never been advisable. So Ollie takes another route of attack to pluck Bruce out of his ‘Batty Funk’.

“So, Bruce, what’s up with the joint project we were working on? I mean, it feels as if Queen Industries are being cut out of its deal with WayneTech. What gives?”

“This is neither the time nor the place to speak of our personal lives. Besides I’m working,” Batman replies as he downloads all the financial data he has recovered on Teague Ford & Mercury which is located in beautiful downtown Metropolis, Kansas. Bruce smiles to himself as he highlights and annotates the areas where these financial documents differ from the official documents submitted to the IRS.

Sighing, Batman realizes that Green Arrow is still talking to him.

“Well, how else am I supposed to get in touch with you? You don’t take my calls, don’t return my messages. I believe you’re deleting my e-mail; I am one step from sending a flaming arrow through the windows of you corporate office in WayneTowers! What, you backing out on me or something?” Oliver “Ollie” Queen, CEO of Queen Industries and the hero known as the Green Arrow, demands of Bruce Wayne, CEO of all of Wayne Enterprises including WayneTech and the hero known as the Batman.

“I have a perfectly exceptional computer system, monitoring and surveillance system, medical and forensic equipment, as well as two assistants who understand how I work and how to help me. They know exactly how I like my coffee and one makes the most sinfully delicious oatmeal chocolate chip cookies that are actually good for you back in Gotham in my cave. The reason why I am here and not there is because I am WORKING on SOMETHING IMPORTANT. So unless we are being called on a mission, are being actively attacked, or unless this satellite is on fire, Go A-Way!” Batman demands in his most imposing, usually saved for the Joker or his tax attorney, growl.

Backing up this time, Green Arrow replies acerbically, “Okay, okay. Damn! You know, I was actually worried about you for a moment, stupid me! Don’t worry, it won’t happen again, and don’t bother holding your breath waiting for the next time I worry about your ass. You’ll need that breath because your grand-bats will have to wake you up to tell you about me ever being worried about you ever again!” he snaps as he turns to leave the computer center.

Batman can hear Ollie muttering to himself as the Green Arrow stomps down the corridor. And can just make out him telling someone that ‘Batman is busy working on something important’ and can’t be bothered interacting with us plebeians.'

“And he came to see if I was alright…huh!” Batman muttered. “He had no idea what he was doing, no idea how to talk to someone stuck deep in the middle of a tough case like this one. Clark…Clark would have done this right. He would have come in with two cups of coffee before asking what’s wrong, then after asking waited until I said my piece. He would have asked if he could help in any way, offered to be my sounding board so that I could talk my way through this. And he would have had something constructive to say about it before jokingly stating that I’d better hurry up and get finished up here before Dick ate up all of Alfred’s cookies, especially since he wanted one or four for himself,” Batman states quietly to himself.

Sighing, Batman drops his head down into his hands, fingers rubbing worriedly along the back of his cowl. ‘Get a grip Bruce, now you’re talking to yourself and you can’t afford to loose it. This case is too important, and there are whispers of Poison Ivy teaming up with someone new back down in Gotham. Who knows what that eco-terror-bitch is up to now. Maybe she’s pissed because someone planted corn out of season and wants to take over the world, or some other stupid shit.’

Sighing, again, Batman sits up straight in his chair, rolls his neck around on his shoulders before reciting several short calming mantras. Having returned to his 'center', Batman returns to his work. It seems that Jason Teague was an idiot savant when it came to money laundering, with emphasis on the idiot part. What he did was so simple that it was most likely that simplicity that had kept him from being caught all this time. But all anyone had to do was turn over enough dirt and there was all the proof anyone needed to put Teague away for a long time.

Batman prints his proof of criminal activity out on official League letterhead and signs off on it in his official left-handed Batman signature before sealing it in a chain-of-evidence envelope. Finally, he removes all traces of his activities from Watchtower’s network and all traces of his presence on the satellite from the surveillance and monitoring system.

Old habits are hard to break.

Now he can leave.

^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&

Having taken the Transporter Pad of League’s Star Trek-like transporter down to their Washington, DC liaison office, Batman heads down to the mail room. There he noticed how quiet the room became while he completed the form ensuring a continued chain of evidence, waited as it was notarized and placed in a secured diplomatic pouch along with his packet and hand delivered to a bonded messenger who will fly it out to Kansas and personally hand it to their Metropolis’ Chief of Police. Having done his research on Chief Porter-Woods, Batman was sure that she would follow up on his evidence and have Teague arrested within the week.

Nodding to the room at large, Batman walked back down the corridor towards the Transporter Pad, which was actually nothing more than a cleared room set aside to allow safe passage without the worry of something or someone getting in the way of an active transport beam. The members of the League have had enough experience, and seen enough episodes of Star Trek, to know that not having a safe place to transport to can be very dangerous.

Once he was gone to the point that not even his boots could be heard walking away, the occupants of the mail room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“That was the real and for true Batman?” squeaked Dexter, the newest intern at the Liaison Office.

“None other, 'cause no one would be stupid enough to try and impersonate him,” intoned Tony Asabucckho, a senior security officer who has had the pleasure of meeting all the members of the Justice League as he had worked here before they opened their fancy satellite up in space.

“Okay, was it just me? Or was the BATMAN actually humming the theme from *COPS*?” asked Richard, the UPS delivery driver.

&^&^&^&^&^&^&^&^

‘One down and three to go!’ Batman thinks during the long walk back to the Transporter Pad. In his heart Batman knew that Teague was the easy one, that Queen, Luthor and Morgan are going to be much harder to find evidence against. And once found, it was going to be hell getting any of it to stick to these so-called captains of industry.

Batman grunts at the fact that if Clark had maintained his…previous profession, then he would have had clientele that others in that profession would have died for. Including himself, Clark 'knows' three Fortune 500 CEOs and one Media Mogul. Hell, Batman knows of four or five Rentboys who would slit Clark’s throat, Kryptonian physiology not withstanding, just to get their hands on his client list.

“And he thinks he’s not worthy!” Batman growls softly.

Continuing down the corridor Batman relegates the quandary of his remaining perps to the back of his mind where his subconscious can work on the problem unhindered by *common sense*. Satisfied that he has done all he can do with it for the moment, Batman marches resolutely past the tittering hoard of ‘tween-aged Sunshine Rangers lining the hall in front of the old Hall of Justice, most likely waiting for their tour to begin. Batman knows that if he turned and just looked at one, no glare, no scowl, just gazed at one of these girls along the wall, that she’d spontaneously combust, making that damned awful squeeing sound as she burst into pink flames.

Finally, he reaches the end of the corridor and the glass elevator that takes one up to the open balcony on the second floor that leads to the Transporter Pad, the glass elevator with a huge ass out of order sign on the doors. Shit, the only other elevator that leads to this area of the building is behind him and to get to it he’d have to travel the Sunshine Ranger gauntlet of giggles again.

“Damn,” Batman exclaims softly to himself. There is only one remedy for this situation. Reaching for his grapple gun he sets it for indoor surfaces and fires it overhead listening for it to catch on one of the architectural features on the ceiling. Once secure he activates the retractor and rises smoothly into the air to handily swing over the rail onto the second floor balcony.

Disengaging and reattaching the grapple gun to his utility belt, Batman walks calmly past the laughing guard standing watch over the Transport Pad. Shouting to be heard over the cacophony of squealing and squee-ing and out right screaming coming from below, the guard thanks Batman for making him the Coolest Dad Ever as he had set up this tour for his daughter’s Ranger Troop.

“Yo, thanks man, I’ll be able to milk the benefits of this for months,” the guard remarks loudly while unlocking the door for the Dark Knight.

“You’re welcome Citizen,” Batman growls just loud enough to be heard over the girls.

While waiting for the transport beam to teleport him from D.C. to Gotham, one of the last things Batman heard before disintegrating is,

“If I commit a crime do you think he’ll come back and arrest meeeeeee?”

“No doofus, all that’ll happen is you’ll get in trouble with your Pops.”

“Yeah! And if you get placed on restrictions you can’t BLOG this with us on our Dark Justice-Dark Love site!”


	4. Five times He Hated Being Superman and One Time He Liked Being Clark Kent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beta: me_ya_ri  
> Characters: Clark Kent/Superman, Lois Lane, Perry White, Ron Troupe, Perry White, cast of CSI Miami, Jai Baker, Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor mentioned,   
> Continuity: Strands AU  
> Ratings: PG this chapter, NC-17 overall  
> Warnings: none  
> Word Count: 4,839  
> Disclaimer: I wish these were my characters but they belong to DCU and CBS. I’ve made nothing but friends from this work.  
> Summary: Sometimes being Superman is a pain in the ass.

1.

Clark was so off his game today. He knew that he shouldn’t depend on the criminal element to keep to a schedule but darn it, there was usually a kind of pattern to when and where they struck. But not this week.

It had actually started last week when the Vllvrn attacked the Earth on a *Thursday*. Any alien armada commander worth his or her salt knows to study their prey and attack when their prey is at their weakest. In the western hemisphere, were the largest organized opposition lived, that’s either on a Sunday or Monday so most invasions took place on those days, but no, not these yahoos! They attacked when everyone was up and running and full of vinegar so they got their collective hats handed to them and sent home crying by that Friday afternoon.

This ruined Clark’s weekend as he used his weekend to make up the work he missed while defeating the idiotic aliens.

Monday was quiet since the aliens had arrived days ahead of schedule and since even criminals dread Mondays, they stayed at home themselves.

Tuesday was more or less on schedule as the mid-level criminals flexed their muscles or put their dastardly plans into action. It was a usual night’s work to knock them back on their heels and imprison all that were caught.

Now it was Wednesday, hump day, and all was not well at the Daily Planet. Those writers who had not come up with a story angle that met Perry White’s approval were frothing at the bit and filled with anxiety. Tempers were short and even the best of partners were snapping at each other’s heels.

Understanding that the office was bound to be a very tense place Clark made a stop at the coffee shop on his way to work and walked in with a large tray of pre-emptive peace offerings. It was the only thing that allowed him to survive the writers meeting that morning and the aftermath of it that afternoon.

 

Clark sighed as yet another member of the senior writing staff walked, no slunk, out of Perry’s office with the Chief’s voice stridently ushering her back out into the bullpen.

“Carter, I said something Original and Fresh. Don’t come back unless you have something Original and Fresh.!”

Perry had set an incredibly high bar in demanding that they create a Metropolis Founder’s Week series that was “damned different from all the other regurgitated crap everyone slaps on their papers every year, and by everyone I include the Planet!”

Shaking her head, Lois remarked, “Damn, there goes Melody, shot down like all the others,” as she shifted to sit back in front of her computer. “And she was so sure that she had an angle on this Founder’s Week bug that Perry’s got up his butt,” Lois smirked as she watched her competition strike out with the boss.

“Lois, that was mean,” admonished Clark shaking his head at his partner. “Don’t tell me you have an approved story to work on for the Founder’s Week series!”

“I have what I have and no one needs to know what I have. Not even you Smallville,” Lois answered breezily.

Suddenly, Clark heard the distinct sound of people screaming for Superman in terror. Extending his hearing to the surrounding area he picked up cadence of heavy rains hitting grass, rocks and gravel, as well as the thick slurping, sliding, sound of mud flowing slowly but gathering speed.

“Lois, I’m not going to sit here and argue with you on what you have or do not have. I’m going to go out, complete an interview and wander around Metropolis looking for inspiration,” Clark stated while getting up quickly from his chair. “I’ll see you later today, maybe?” he finished while all but running from the bullpen.

Moments later a blue and red blur streaked off towards Africa as the people of Uganda cried out for help during sudden torrential rains and the resulting mudslides.

 

Hours later a mud and muck encased Superman flew through the air away from Uganda to one of the secret bases he’d set up around the world. Today Superman heads for his favorite, the one he set up in the middle of the Amazon Rain Forest.

He could have flown out to the Fortress and cleaned up there but the remote savage beauty surrounding the quarter mile high waterfall and crystal clear pool at its base soothed the jagged edges of his soul especially after a particularly rough or messy mission.

‘I really hate mudslides in hot tropical countries. The mud is so hot it won’t stay frozen solid longer that ten minutes before breaking apart and bashing folk on the head. And trying to divert tons of the scalding hot sludge using only logs and bits of destroyed homes is nearly impossible’ Clark whined to himself.

‘And those stupid ultra conservative, ultra entitled politicians don’t do a darn thing to help the situation. All they do is sit on their butts and comment on CNN. And how dare they make all those snide critiques about my uniform, it is not too bright, or too tight or too suggestive. What do they want me to work in, a brown burlap sack for heaven’s sake?’ he continues while surveying the immediate area for signs of encroachment by loggers or native villagers.

“And then they attack my friends. Wonder Woman does not hate men, Martian Manhunter is not the harbinger of an alien invasion, Hawkwoman is not a fallen angel out to tempt men into hell and Batman is not a demon, just a self absorbed asshole!” Superman exclaims in route to his destination.

This whole rescue had left Superman feeling filthy, hot and bothered, and not in the good way.

Flying into the cave he’d found about half way up the waterfall, Superman slowed down enough to allow the force of the falling water to beat off the worst of the mud and muck. Inside he stripped off his uniform dropping it into a natural basin formed by a slow eddying flow from the falls. He placed a shaped rubber stopper in the bottom of the basin to stop the water from draining away and using his heat vision made the water boiling hot to start the cleaning process.

Leaving his uniform to soak, Clark rolled away a huge boulder behind which he kept a travel kit, cleaning supplies and spare uniform. Pulling out his body wash Clark does a quick soap up before flying out under the raging flow of the waterfall. There he allows the thundering waters rinse away all the mud, the muck, the frustration, the tears, the voices of hate and ignorance, and the memories of the bodies of those he couldn’t save.

Reentering the cave, Clark reaches back into his storage space, pulls out some laundry soap and gives his uniform a super speed wash and rinse before wringing out most of the water. Clark puts the slightly damp uniform on, cleanes up his hide-away and burst back out through the waterfall heading for Metropolis. By the time Clark reaches the office he had a story proposal outlined in his head.

 

“Clark, I’m gonna go easy on you because you’re new to the Senior Writing Team. This, this is a good try, if you were still writing fillers and ancillary articles. I bought you into the big leagues because I thought you had the ability to write lead in stories. don’t prove me wrong! Now get out and go find me something Fresh and Original to print during Founder’s Week!” Perry hollered as he threw open his office door to let escape a very flustered Clark Kent.

“Not bad Clark,” remarked the politically savvy Ron Troupe, “the old man actually left your hearing intact, he must like you or something.”

“Really? Have you…” Clark asked pointing between the more experienced journalist and their editor.

“No, I haven’t found anything that won’t get me bounced out of there on my rear, yet. Don’t get discouraged Clark, Perry White didn’t promote you just to watch you fail. Go home cause tomorrow is another day,” Troupe encouraged as he walked back to the bullpen.

Sighing Clark walked over to his desk and dropped down into his chair. “At least I can write up a piece on the ecological disaster the rain storms created in Uganda, and Superman’s rescues effort before calling it a day,” he told his computer.

2.

Thursday morning after he had turned in his article on Uganda Clark heard the unmistakable sounds of fear, terror, cries for his help as well as the rumbling sound of the earth in upheaval. He’d been expecting this ever since he first noticed the increased tension and stress on several seismic fault lines in Europe. Clark had not been sure where the quake would manifest. Now he knew: Corto Maltese. Leaving word with the Mandy Walburg, the office manager, stating that he was out following up on a lead Clark hurried down the stairwell. Moments later Superman streaks out of Metropolis heading for the troubled European nation.

 

“I don’t believe it. I don’t freaking believe it!” Superman shouted aloud as he flew over the Amazon Basin. “A duly appointed government ordered me not to save its citizens. They even returned the people I had evacuated to a safer, more stable area back to the epicenter of the earthquake!” Superman ranted as he entered his cave behind the waterfall. Stripping off what’s left of his uniform Superman rolls the boulder away to get to his kit. After first vibrating his body to remove whatever remnants of dried lava and melted ore that still clung to him Superman plunges himself under the might of the thundering waters.

There he tries to scrub away the looks of fear and disbelief on the faces of the inhabitants as the huge government military helicopters pointed their weapons at them as that insufferable official ordered him back before they opened fire. On their own citizens! “Damn!” he shouted hating that he was left with no choice but to manually relieve the underground pressure knowing that the consequences of such an action would be an unexpected earthquake or tsunami somewhere on earth at some unexpected time.

Superman was very thankful that the death toll was very low for an earthquake of this magnitude.

Grinning at the only high point of that whole disaster he recalls the looks on the faces of the stupid government officials as he stood on the steps of their capitol building holding a press conference still red hot and covered in lumps and blobs of cooling lava. This is when Superman got to announce the secession of earthquake activity and, due to the seismic upheavals, the emergence of new fertile ground to that once barren region so recently awarded to the displaced ethnic dissidents of beautiful Corto Maltese.  
Unfortunately that high point was followed by a very low one.

3.

“What the hell was Bruce doing lurking around Corto Maltese? Is he every-freaking-where? What, avoiding Gotham isn’t enough? Do I have to check in with his social secretary to see what the hell he’s got planned before flying off on a mission? Do I have to stay holed up in Metropolis just to avoid that insufferable ass?” Superman grates through his gritted teeth. “I avoid League meetings, where I’m the Chair, not to have to be near him, what else do I have to give up just to get some peace!”

Moving out into the heart of the waterfall where the force of the fall is at its greatest, Superman allowed the forces of nature to pound him, washing away the soap and grime as well as the pain and sadness. After as long as it takes, Superman returned to the cave and dressed in his reserve uniform, put his space to rights, before flying back to Metropolis.

Back in the office Clark writes his article on Corto Maltese, the earthquake, its political malfeasance and Superman’s rescue efforts. He also outlines another article proposal for Founders Week. Hopefully Mr. White will find this idea more to his liking.

4.

Friday, finally, and Clark’s gotten several articles published. No nothing front page worthy but neither were they the usual fluff and fill that he was used to working on. Now if only he could come up with something for Founders Week as Perry had promptly shot down his last idea.

Of course Lois had an idea approved by the Chief and was merrily fleshing out the details on her piece. And she wasn’t sharing the subject of her article with him. Clark was just about to head down to the paper’s archives once again to review what articles were published previously to make sure that his latest idea is not a rehash of something they had already done when his super hearing picked up the distinctive whine of a high powered laser and the near silent implosion of matter out in space. He was worried that Vllvrn had returned to make good on their treats of a speedy revenge after the through shellacking the Justice League delivered last week, Ducking into the men’s room, Clark looks up towards the sound of the disturbance and curses to himself. Stomping quickly out of the building into a discrete alley Clark changes clothes before he takes off, streaking up into space.

 

“A LexCorp Death-Ray, a LexCorp Death-Ray! I swear Lex Luthor has a strange and unhealthy fascination with death-rays,” Superman grouses as he programs the cleansing chamber in the Fortress of Solitude.

“Maybe he was weaned too early, or had a bad potty training experience. He was probably bullied in school and losing his hair must have been traumatic. Maybe he was over indulged with things while being starved for affection. I know his father made his life a living hell," Superman complained in a falling voice.

"I know he hates me. I was such a lousy boyfriend.” Superman whispers while standing under the forceful cleansing waterfall he programmed into his system. Standing still Clark lets the waters wash away the old pain, for now, shaking himself free of it all.

“Well, whatever! Get over it Lex, sheesh!” he exclaimed as the unit began to dry him off.

‘The darn thing took out a communications array when it fired on some floating junk up there. Hello, debris scatters all over the place when you blow it up out in space. At least this laser death ray was placed in a satellite platform so no innocent people or beings were hurt when it began firing on me,” he kvetched internally while dressing.

“And I know it was meant for me Lex. Why else would you add green kryptonite to a laser? It adds nothing to the beam and it only affects Kryptonians!” Superman shouted. He knew he sounded childish but he was in the safety of the Fortress so no one would know about it but him, his AI and the bots.

“And if that wasn’t enough,” he told his consumables bot, “the force of the explosion I caused when I threw that hunk of lead and iron ore meteor at Lex’s darn death-ray knocked me out cold and hurled me out of orbit and 22,276 miles down to the earth.”

The little robot made a sound of almost human concern as it handed Superman a turkey and Swiss sandwich on rye and cup of hot chicken soup.

“I know, and I didn’t regain consciousness until I was about a quarter mile above the Port of Miami. I had just enough energy to change my fall so that I landed out in the water. I faded out again right before I hit the water. But came to wrapped in the arms of a rather handsome Miami-Dade Criminologist with the cutest Cuban accent,” Clark related to his bot who coo’ed encouragingly. The bots all knew that their master had been so sad recently. Maybe this new interest would boost his morale? The AI mobile unit could only hope.

“Well at least my fall into the ocean helped the police catch a boat full of smugglers but still, how embarrassing!” he blushed thinking what he must have looked like while being fished out of the water like a drowned rodent. “I’ve got to send Lt. Cain and his CSI team a letter of thanks before I leave. If nothing else I’ve got an idea for a Founder’s Week article I can propose when I get back to the office.”

 

5

“Lois, if you had only let me, your partner, know what you were working on then I wouldn't have wasted my time working on a proposal that was already taken, or been yelled at, again, by Perry!” Clark whispered angrily across his desk at Lois.

“Oh, don’t go getting your boxers in a bunch Clark,” Lois answered, “at least you now know that you can think like a senior writer. Now if you would just stop jumping up and running around Metropolis looking for inspiration and just sit still and use the senior writing mind hiding out behind those glasses you will find your own story, I’ve got to go speak to an expert on Metropolis’ history in piracy,” she stated breezing out of the office. “See ya tomorrow Smallville.”

Sighing, Clark carefully banged his head on the one clear spot on his desk, repeatedly!

‘I knew this was going to happen. The moment I decided to take up being Superman I knew that something was going to have to give.’ Clark sighed internally. ‘I only hoped that the sacrifice would be more personal than professional.’ Grimacing Clark continues, ‘it’s not like I’ve done a stellar job navigating personal relationships in the past so not having any now is not going to be a problem but I wasn’t prepared to give up a professional career too! I’ll just have to find a way to better manage my time cause as much as I want to be a great investigative reporter I can’t stop being Superman! I can’t not go help folks when I know I can stop a crime, save a life, make a difference!’

Lifting his head from his desk, and checking to see that he didn’t dint the steel surface, Clark goes back to the proposal he was writing for his article on corporate responsibility and malfeasance in weapons testing. When he was finished and submitted the proposal to the editor, shut down his desk and left the office the clouds above the city were as heavy as the walls of the dam holding back the Colorado River. When Clark got off the bus three blocks from his apartment the dam had burst so he was soaked to the bone by the time he walked into the lobby of his apartment building.

 

1.

Standing in the lobby, dripping wet, and holding a useless mass of wet newspaper in his hand Clark looked like he swam home. And the only thought plodding through his mind is the fact that he’s tired, wet, hungry, and has been scooped again by his partner.

Dropping his sopping newspaper in the trash Clark stopped in the mailroom for a few moments to collect his mail, keeping the pertinent and adding his junk mail and adverts to the waterlogged paper in the trash. Leaving the mailroom Clark bumped into his new neighbor, Jai. They had been friendly, saying Hi and Bye in the hall, laundry and mailroom over the past few weeks. It seemed that she was returning to her apartment from the trash-shute.

“Hi Clark,”

“Oh hi Jai,”

“Damn, got caught in that rain they’d been promising all day huh?”

“Yeah, well, I had to work late but now,” Clark apologized pointing up the stairs indicating his every intention of getting a hot shower, a cold dinner and some sleep in that order.

“Hey, why don’t come to my place. I could use your help,” Jai offers.

“Maybe another day, right now I’m cold and tired and…”

“And you’re going to go up to your apartment, dry off, eat whatever is in the fridge and go to sleep, right?” Taking Clark’s silence as agreement Jai continued. “Or, you could take me up on my offer, get a dry change of clothes and a good hot meal, and trust me, after you eat what I got, sleep will come swiftly and softly,” Jai proposes as they walk further into the building towards both her apartment and the stairwell.

“Well, I’m really…” Clark starts as Jai opens her apartment door allowing the enticing odors of cooking meats and spices and baking bread waft out into the hall. Odors Clark had been trying to ignore as he knew all there was to eat in his apartment was some left over Chinese take-out and a few frozen burritos. Inhaling, Clark was bombarded with wonderful, delightful odors that smelled of warmth and home and…

“Please Clark, I really need a clean palate to help me decide which recipe to use at work.”

“Well, if you really need my help,” Clark agrees allowing himself to be steered into Jai’s apartment.

Once inside Jai escorts Clark to her bathroom where she gives him some hangers, a big fluffy towel and a set of black sweats to change into.

“These should fit you okay although the pants legs will be a little short. Just hang your wet clothes in the shower and turn on the heat lamp. They won’t be dry by the time you leave but they won’t be sopping wet and cold either,” Jai instructs. “When you’re finished come out and join me in the kitchen.”

Standing in what is essentially a strange woman’s bathroom; Clark removes his cold wet clothes, hanging them up in the shower, and then took a long look at himself in the mirror.

“What the heck am I doing in the bathroom of a woman I barely know?”

“grwooolol,” his stomach answered.

“Oh! Yeah right.”

When Clark finally emerges from the bathroom dressed in a pair of loose fitting black sweats, whose legs stop somewhere above his shins, he walks through Jai’s now unpacked and decorated apartment to join his neighbor in her kitchen. Jai was taking a pan of hot biscuits out of the oven as he sits down at the breakfast bar.

“Welcome to my home Clark, now that I have it all cleaned up and decorated. Now I can get something hot into you before a chill sets in.”

Watching Jai stir about in her kitchen Clark smiled as his enhanced sense of smell picked up a mélange of chicken and vegetables and some other meat he was not too familiar with and spices, lots of spices. It made his mouth water as lunch was a long time ago and many miles away.

“So you need me, or rather my ‘palate’, for something?” he clarified.

“Yes, the women’s health clinic I work for downtown also has a street outreach program where we provide food and services to the homeless and the prostitutes. Well, I tasted the stuff they serve as soup and it was a tasteless, low nutrition, high sodium canned soup bought in bulk and warmed to a hot, gummy, nasty, salty, watery gruel before we set out,” she explained.

“They probably get the cans at a discount or something,” Clark argued, playing the devil’s advocate.

“No doubt the store couldn’t sell this swill so they decided to sell it below cost to some charity and make their money back on taxes. We’re supposed to be helping our clients, not raising their blood pressure and giving them strokes and stuff. Anyway, I told my director that I could come up with recipes that were good tasting, good for you and either cost the same or less than the cost of the canned soup. To save even more money I worked out a tentative program to have the soup prepared by the local culinary school students for free as they will get class credit for doing so,” Jai countered.

“That’s industrious,” Clark said admiringly.

“Thank you,” Jai replied smiling happily. “I was able to come up with three recipes, one that costs less and the others that cost just as much as the canned glop.” Jai sets a bowl in front of Clark and fills it with a wonderful fragrant soup just filled with vegetables of all sorts. The smell alone has Clark swallowing as his mouth watered.

“Smells wonderful,” he compliments.

“Thanks! This is a totally vegetable soup made with all sorts of seasonal vegetables bought locally. It’s got a garlic heavy aromatic base, good for high blood pressure, stress and colds, plus root, ground and leafy veggies cooked low and slow to develop the taste. Damn, I feel like I’m on Iron Chef or something,” she babbles nervously as Clark began to eat.

Clark sighed with delight as ate the warm, homey, silky and satisfying soup. He emptied the smallish bowl with relish.

“That was wonderful; the folks you feed will love it!” Clark assured.

Beaming Jai poured Clark a large glass of cold lemonade instructing him to drink some to cleanse his palate, while bringing him a clean bowl, filling it with a chicken scented soup.

“This is a southern recipe made with chicken feet, I took them out cause I know most urban folk aren’t use to eating chicken feet,” Jai states quickly. “I then added, of all things, canned chicken breast, again lots of garlic, dried herbs, onion, carrots and celery and orzo pasta for carbs. Enjoy,” Jai finished bowing like an Iron Chef during tasting.

Smiling, Clark remarks that he’s a country boy, raised on a working farm and, “there’s not a part of a farm animal that I haven’t eaten at one time or another.”

Sighing at the rich chicken flavor and unexpected flavor combinations Clark is intrigued and uses his enhanced sense of taste to puzzle out exactly what Jai had included in her soup.

“Mint, you added mint and…lemon?” he asked.

“Wow, you really have a sensitive tongue there. Yeah, I added a small amount of mint and lemon extract to brighten up the flavors,” acknowledged Jai.

Clark hummed his appreciation as he finished this bowl as well sopping up the last bits with a biscuit.

Pouring him another glass of lemonade, Jai ladled up a third and last bowl of soup.

“This is a Jamaican recipe that I modified. It’s made with goat head and loads of what Jamaicans call ground provisions or root vegetables,” Jai explains. “I netted the head so that the unseemly bits don’t float out cause can you see some poor homeless person finding an eyeball in their soup?”

“No, I don’t think that will go over real well,” agrees Clark, with a grin.

Digging into this soup Clark is pleasantly surprised by its earthy heartiness. Nervously pushing his glasses up his nose Clark remarks that “I’ve heard of a Caribbean soup that was good for…um…well…”

Smirking Jai finished “Virility? Well yeah, I based this soup off the recipe for Mannish Water, better known as Jamaican Viagra but left out the mannish parts.”

At Clark’s inquiring expression she explains that she left out the white rum, either bull or goat penis and scrotum and Scotch Bonnet peppers. “That’s what gives the soup it’s Mannish properties and is traditionally given to bridegrooms on their wedding day to ensure a good wedding night,” Jai explains with a playful wagging of her brows. “Now they serve it in clubs and parties to make sure the men can keep the boasts they’ve made to the women they’re hitting on. I’ve got some real Mannish Water if you want to try some?” Jai challenged. “But if you do, accept this challenge, you, Mr. Kent, are responsible for taking care of all Mannish reactions on your own,” Jai laughs.

Clark took her up in that challenge tasting a small amount of her ‘Mannish Water’. And was there a difference!

“Wow, that hot Scotch Bonnet really fires up the taste,” Clark exclaims happily You’d think this soup would self-combust with all the rum and peppers mixed together.”

“Nope, the explosion is supposed to happen later, when folk try to become the beast with two backs as it were,” Jai answers with an exaggerated leer.

Laughing merrily, Clark finds himself relaxing into the conversation as they spend the rest of the evening discussing culture and food and peasant soups vs. classic culinary creations. Discussing something as simple as food, listening to Jai with her warm, friendly cadence and gentle hominess becomes a balm to his battered spirit after the week he’s had. Clark thinks that he may have even found an idea for a Founder’s Week article while they talk.

‘Maybe, just maybe this horrible week if finally over,’ Clark thought to himself as he reached for another biscuit and asked for seconds of the chicken foot soup.


	5. Care Management

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beta: me_ya_ri and Lorena_at_Large  
> Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth with mentions of Clark Kent/Superman, Lois Lane, Chloe Sullivan, Jimmy Olsen, Lana Lang, Jason Teague, Diana Prince/Wonder Woman, and Lex Luthor   
> Continuity: Strands AU  
> Ratings: R for the occasional curse in this chapter, NC-17 overall  
> Warnings: none  
> Word Count: 2,803  
> Disclaimer: I wish these were my characters but they belong to DCU and CW. I’ve made nothing but friends from this work.  
> Summary: Bruce (mis)manages his feelings for Clark.

May 21, 1999 Gotham City, NJ   
Down in the cavernous bowels of stately Wayne Manor; in the vast cave system whose only inhabitants were the Myotis sodalis bat, but which is now the base of operations of the Batman and his partner Robin, a man sits and broods.

The man, Bruce Wayne, Batman’s public identity, sat in front of his custom super computer still wearing the Hermes trousers he wore to the office that morning. The rest of the suit had been whisked up to his room by Alfred Pennyworth, officially Bruce Wayne’s butler but in reality so much more.

Bruce had left the office early this afternoon to return to his most recent investigations. It seemed that there was talk on the street that an old foe, the unfortunately disfigured Harvey Dent, now calling himself Two-Face, had been seen partnering with a new female villain, one who either used or controlled plants. According to the logs Robin entered following his most recent undercover assignment, their informant called this woman ‘that red headed green plant bitch’. Interesting. Either she only uses green plants or she is colored green indicating that she may be a Meta. Either way, this pairing must be stopped before it all ends in blood and pain.

“Well, that just sounded so fucking melodramatic,” Bruce groused to himself as he completed what little investigating that could be done from the cave. When finished, Bruce made a new patrol pattern for both he and Robin in order to follow up on the leads he’d gathered. Only after completing all immediate tasks relating to Two-Face and this ‘red headed green plant’ woman did Bruce open up a new window and accessed the triple-encrypted private file he’d begun to investigate the men who hurt his Clark.

Smiling wickedly, Bruce reflected not only on the arrest of Jason Teague on the federal charge of money laundering but on the impending clusterfuck that would thunder down like a hail storm on Lex Luthor’s bald head.

‘What the hell was he thinking, shooting debris in the area of space where other satellites orbit? I don’t care how careful you are something can go wrong, be redirected, ricochet, bounce! And without atmosphere to stop or slow the rogue chunk of shit down, the chance of it taking out a competitor’s satellite is all but assured,’ Bruce thought angrily. ‘Knowing that ass, that was probably Luthor’s plans in the first place. Either way, Clark fucked up those plans and left him with what could be lap full of shit if someone lights the fire.’

Unfortunately for Luthor, Bruce liked fires.

For the next hour both Bruce Wayne and Batman made contact with national and international business and government offices who have satellites in space, as well as the Justice League’s legal department (between Clark’s fiasco in Corto Maltese and this, they were going to have to pay their legal counsel a lot of overtime, but it was so worth it). He even contacted several national and international news organizations seeding information on, how did Clark word it in his article Friday? Oh yes, 'Luthor’s corporate irresponsibility and malfeasance in weapons testing.' He even called Perry White at the Planet to congratulate him on breaking the story first.

By the time he’d finished burying Lex Luthor in his own personal legal and PR hell Bruce was pumping his fist in the air and quietly cheering.

“Ha! Lex fucking Luthor literally ran onto his own sword when he attacked Superman. Bastard! But this will be the last fucking time he makes that mistake again, I promise!”

Working furiously, Bruce creates measures and countermeasures so that even a megalomaniac like Lex Luthor will come to understand that attacking either his Clark, or Superman, is now too fucking expensive an endeavor to even contemplate let alone attempt.

Checking the locator beacons he’d placed in his ward, Dick Grayson’s car, motorcycle, uniform and wallet (right next to the condom), Bruce was assured that Dick was heading home from the Titans. He is still far enough away not to arrive any time soon. With Alfred still out running errands for the Manor, Bruce knew that he had the time to review the recordings from his Clark’s apartment and desk at the Planet in peace. Not that he’s going to hear much at the Planet. This past week had been a very busy one for Superman, with the attack of the alien idiots, mudslides, earthquakes, death-rays, and the challenge to come up with a unique story for the Planet’s Founders Week editions. Yes, Clark had had a very full week indeed.

However, being a good detective means being through (which is not the same as being obsessive, just through, the way a good detective is supposed to be. Through.), so Bruce listened to the recordings from the Planet. Besides, he’d come to enjoy listening to Clark both work and manipulate the hell outta Lois whenever she came close to linking mild mannered Clark Kent with The Man of Steel Superman.

This afternoon while listening in on the few intra office conversations recorded Bruce finalized his conclusion that Lois was not the right mate for his Clark. He felt that yes, she liked Clark and respected his growing skills as a reporter, and that while Lois was supportive, friendly and protective of Clark Kent the reporter, she did not respect Clark Kent the man. Furthermore, while she was fascinated with Superman and voiced romance-laced thoughts about him, in truth Lois seemed more entranced with his super heroic persona and abilities. She did not respect Superman as a man either.

Chloe Sullivan was not a match either. They had known each other since high school so if anything was going to happen between the two it would have happened already. Besides, Chloe is currently dating Jimmy Olsen, one of the Planet’s photographers.

Then there’s that Lang bitch his Clark was so in love with when he was younger. She had showed her true feelings for Clark by dating one of his offenders then marrying another. The woman is clearly a mental defective whose only sense of taste lies in her mouth.

“Really, I don’t know what Clark ever saw in her, other than the obvious!” Bruce grumbles as his fingers fly over his keyboard.

‘At one time I thought he and Diana were going to get together,’ Bruce thought to himself. ‘They have a lot in common, good looks that they don’t recognize the power of, both strangers to this culture, similar power levels, and if my research is accurate they are both virtually immortal so barring incidents of their “work” neither will outlive the other. Then Diana went and fell in love with a mortal human male, Steve Trevor,’ he continues while shaking his head at the, well, he won’t call it stupidity because they are very much in love, but at the inadvisability of it all.

“What they have together is what I want for my Clark,” Bruce announces to the universe.

“The only other gay or bisexual male in the League that I know of is Ollie, but now that I know what he did to Clark, I will never forgive him for that, never! I’ll ship him out on a tuna boat to the outer Crab Nebula before I let him even breath on my Clark ever again,” he grits out through a clenched snarl.

Once again, Bruce’s fingers flew over the keyboard, entering in the final bit of information he’s gathered in his years of observing the members of his rarified social circle into his Objective Multiphasic Personality Inventory program. No, to be accurate and fair, he’s entering his latest observations of those members of “Society” he actually tolerates, if not likes.

Bruce had entered information on those members he suspected of malfeasance years ago. He used this data to build a profile of them in order to bring to justice those who make the mistake that all criminals make sooner or later, greedily thinking that they can get away with everything.

He also uses this tool to weed out potential dating partners among the rich and famous who won’t make his skin itch every time they open their mouths for those times it is beneficial for Brucie to be seen with someone for more than three dates.

Bruce ruminates on the small number of women and gay or bisexual men he knows who are worthy of his Clark. By crossing a database filled with their psychological profiles with Clark’s profile he should be able to connect him with a pool of people to introduce him to.

“And if there are no connections in that quarter then I can start on the members of the staff at the Daily Planet that haven’t screwed the pooch. And if I can’t find someone there then I’ll start looking in the hero community at large. There has to be someone out there for my Clark. Someone who will make him happy. Someone who won’t hurt him.”

Bruce is still working on how he would connect his short list with his Clark when he heard the man return to the bullpen in Metropolis. Noting that nothing much is going on, Bruce kept half an ear on the conversations but speed up the tape while continuing his orchestration of Clark’s introductions. Bruce notices a new voice on the recording. Checking the time stamp Bruce realized that an hour and a half of recordings had sped by and accordingly Clark was at home. Well, not at home exactly. It sounded as if he were in his apartment building but in someone else’s unit, someone other than the covey of little grey-haired ladies he normally surrounded himself with.

“Please Clark, I really need a clean palate to help me decide which recipe to use at work,” said the unknown young-ish female neighbor.

“Well, if you really need my help,” Clark agreed far too readily for Bruce’s comfort.

Rewinding the recording to listen more attentively, Bruce hears his Clark bump into this neighbor just as he walked into the building, indicating her apartment is on the first floor. Thankful that he owns the building Clark lives in and pulls up the building’s rental applications for the first floor. Bruce sees that the only female younger than fifty living on the first floor was Jai Marie Baker, recently relocated from Queens, New York.

That name sounds familiar.

Checking on Dick’s whereabouts, Bruce finds that Dick’s locator beacon has been stopped in New York City for the past 45min. Noticing the address under Robin’s mini-jet Bruce smirks understanding that Dick is visiting that alien female he’s been in a physical relationship with.

“After that safety lecture I gave him I trust Dick to be both careful and circumspect, besides, this will keep him occupied for at least another hour if not two. He won’t have time to rest before patrol but that’s his business if he wants to sacrifice his rest for that alien,” Bruce comments while checking on Alfred’s errands. It seems that Alfred had been home for the last ten minutes and thus should remain busied putting away the groceries and starting dinner. “I won’t have either of them coming down here anytime soon so I can continue to work undisturbed.”

Queuing up the recording from where he left off, Bruce sits back and listens to his Clark and this Jai woman talk about soup of all things. The conversation sounds innocent enough on the surface but he notes tones of enjoyment in Clark’s voice that he has not heard in quite some time.

Something about that fact forms a lump of icy bile in the pit of Bruce’s gut.

Bruce listens as this Jai explains how she made some sort of chicken soup using the feet of the damn things but took them out before serving.

‘Paranoia runs deep in that sector, finding a chicken foot in a cup of soup will probably scare the shit out of someone and have them thinking that the foot was a baby’s hand or something equally disgusting,’ Bruce grouses.

His mood darkens even further as he hears the smile in his Clark’s voice as he remarks that he’s a country boy, raised on a working farm and that there’s not a part of a farm animal that he haven’t eaten at one time or another.

“She’s feeding you already; you don’t have to turn on that damned country boy charm!”

Deciding that he needs to know more about this woman who, according to her rental application, could be Clark’s mother if she had given birth to him when she was fourteen, Bruce initiates an exhaustive identity search. He does know a bit about this woman, how could he forget her? This is the woman he was stuck next to in traffic weeks ago when he heard that motivational speaker on her car radio. Yes, she was listening to that televangelist out of Texas.

“Aren’t they all out of Texas?” Bruce snorted to himself.

What Bruce heard over that woman’s car radio had somehow pried his ass off the pity pot and into action to make amends to his Clark. He’s grateful to her for bringing him in contact with that motivational speaker but Bruce is suspicious as well. That woman was driving through Gotham when he first came near her. This must mean one of two things.

“Either A: she was avoiding the jack knifed tractor trailer blocking the more direct New York to Metropolis route by traveling through Gotham to take the ferry across the bay, making her presence in Metropolis valid and her a potential connection for Clark, or B: this Ms. Baker was traveling to Gotham for whatever reason and the doppelganger came across her and is now using her non-threatening form and profile to lure my Clark even deeper into its clutches. Either way I’m going to need to get over to Metropolis to place this woman under surveillance right after I take care of Harvey and his new partner,” Bruce stated emphatically.

Hoping to hear of any financial changes to Luthor’s company before leaving on patrol, Bruce opens online feeds to the business news networks. By the time Bruce had finished encrypting both the file that will hold the identity search results for Clark’s soup lady and the file that will hold Clark’s OMPI complimentary psyche profiles, reports of the sudden and catastrophic devaluation of LexCorp’s stock were making the rounds on the feeds.

Turning to give them his full attention, Bruce also taps into the local and world news stations. Soon everyone is reporting on the huge sell off of LexCorp stocks following rumors that the company is going to be heavily fined for its latest satellite debacle and there are even hints that LexCorp might lose its lucrative defense contract.

“I couldn’t take away his freedom for his crimes he committed so I did the next best thing, I took away his money!” Bruce growls.

Watching Luthor’s house of cards crumble beneath his arrogance sends spikes of joy through Bruce. But it is when he watched the great Lex Luthor being hounded out of his offices by a blood hungry horde of reporters that Bruce can't contain his elation and leaps up out of his seat with a “Yes!” of accomplishment.

“Bruce?”

Turning around ,he came face to face with a startled Dick, still in his Robin uniform, and Alfred with a raised eyebrow. Scowling, Bruce stalked over to the pair.

“I see you finally made it back,” Bruce growls at Dick. “You need to shower. You reek of her and if I can smell her all over you then so will the street scum.”

“Uhh, okay…”

“And you’ll need to apply concealer on your neck, some of the marks she left show above your uniform collar!”

“Oh shhh, I mean o-okay, sure Bruce,” Dick stammers.

“I have prepared a light dinner of soup and sandwiches sir, seeing that it is so close the time you and Master Dick leave for patrol,” Alfred announces.

“Thank you Alfred, but I’ll just have a sandwich and coffee,” Bruce replies, heading for the changing area himself. “I may have the soup…later.”

Confused, Dick looks over at the now dark computer monitors and then back to Bruce’s retreating back before finally looking at Alfred.

“Wha…? Who…? I know I missed something! Something huge! Do you know?”

“Unfortunately, no Master Dick. But rest assured, whatever is causing this disturbance will not affect the discharge of Master Bruce's duty,” Alfred answers with confidence.

“Yeah, I know he’ll take care of things tonight, it’s tomorrow I’m worried about,” Dick replies as he follows Bruce back to the shower and changing area.

“And I as well,” Alfred states to the empty room.


	6. Back to Normal Just Being Neighborly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Clark Kent/Superman, Martha Kent, and Sue Ann Nivens (OC), Clark Kent/Superman, Jai Baker with mentions of Jor-El and Lara  
> Continuity: DCU/Marvel Strands AU   
> Ratings: PG this chapter, NC-17 overall  
> Warnings: none to date but deals with past underage non-con  
> Word Count: 5,040  
> Disclaimer: The characters you recognize belong to DCU, Warner Bros, and Marvel respectively. If they were mine there would be a lot more sex and SM involved for sure.  
> Summary: Things in Clark’s life begin to get back to normal, well as normal as things can get when you’re Superman. Next Clark thanks his lucky star, Jai by taking her on a tour of Metropolis. He learns several remarkable things

June 11, 1999, Bullpen of the Daily Planet, Metropolis, DE

Clark was smiling. Actually, he’d been smiling all week and what a week it has been. First off, it was a week of normalcy. Early Sunday morning a rogue legion of the Ho’d made a failed attempt to steal several low earth orbit satellites. They might have succeeded except for the increased security in place following Luther’s antics last week. The mission turned into an easy clean-up assignment for the Legion that was over and done with in several hours’ time. By Wednesday, both the Prankster and Thaddeus Killgrave exercised their right to be stupid with their attempts to part good hardworking folks from their money and/or property. Their efforts were stopped quickly and with little to no property damage and now the two of them are sitting pretty in Blackgate Penitentiary once again. Friday was petty crime day as low level thugs tried to make their money for the weekend. Clark spent the night stopping muggers, smash and run thieves, car jackers and the like until early Saturday morning. This was just another normal week in crime fighting.

Next, it was a week of recognition as his proposal for Founder’s Week was approved; Perry loved the idea of an article highlighting what our new immigrants are contributing to Metropolis today. And not only did he approve but he gave Clark the honor of being the writer of the last article in the series!

“It’s like being the Zamboni driver at a winning Mammoths game,” Clark chuckles to himself.

But most importantly, it was a week that was pure payback for his last week of hell. Instead of last week when everything that could go wrong went wrong and in the worst possible manner, this week everything was working out wonderfully.

The Chief was even going to expand on the original premise of his article and include the editor of the Planet’s Lifestyle section, Metropolis’ answer to Martha Stewart, the Happy Homemaker herself, Sue Ann Nivens. Perry wanted her to create a series of articles on the culture and foods of the various communities Clark included in his article. He even wanted to include the recipes for the soups Jai made him the night Clark came up with this idea; said it would be the jump off point that would connect his article with Miss Nivens’ work.

“Which is perfect since I want to start my article on the work being done by the woman’s health clinic Jai works for, their homeless and sex worker’s assistance work sounds very challenging yet rewarding,” Clark informed his mother, Martha later that evening.

“It sounds dangerous yet rewarding if you ask me sweetheart,” Martha replied.

“I know and I’m curious to see what security measures they use to ensure the safety of their workers out on the street too. Well, I’ll find that all out to tomorrow, I have an appointment with the director, Elena Biggens. I’ve also lined up some interviews with a Haitian immigrations support group, a Korean artists enclave and a group up from DC who are opening a Metropolis based office of the GMOC, Gay Men of Color. They are a HIV/AIDS intervention organization. But the best part is that in doing my research I’m making so many new contacts, contacts that can lead to future sources of information in these communities. Ma, I feel like a real investigative reporter.” Clark enthused throwing himself back onto the second-hand couch which had seen a lot of living even before Clark bought it home.

“Oh, that’s wonderful Clark! I’m so proud. We’ve always known that you were a great writer; you just needed the opportunity,” Martha praised. “You need to thank your lucky stars that this challenge gave you the chance to show your best to that Mr. White over at the _Daily Planet._ ”

“Thank you Ma. You know, you’re right. And I’ll do that right after I put this article to bed,” Clark promised.

&^&^&^&^&

June 14, 1999 Metropolis, DE

For the next twenty days, Clark worked diligently on his article. He interviewed everyone he could from his neighbor Jai and her director of the woman’s health service, both of who had relocated down from New York, to a delegation of Amazons from Paradise Island who recently opened up a new branch of their Athena Foundation which fosters academic and physical education for girls and young women under socioeconomic stress. By the time he finished the article Clark had contacted as many of the different cultural groups and organizations present in all six boroughs of Metropolis, interviewed most of them and was photographed seemingly eating his way through the city.

That final part was due to his collaboration with Sue Ann Nivens and her Lifestyles articles.   
Sue Ann Nivens, the senior editor of Planet Lifestyle, was for all surface appearances a very charming and sweet older woman. The type Clark usually got along with very well. Naturally, he thought that working with Miss Nivens would be a guilty pleasure, learning aspects of journalism he might be able to use to improve his investigative reporting skills while enjoying an older woman’s unique outlook on life.

Once he started working with her, Clark got to meet the real Happy Homemaker. Sue Ann Nivens, sporting her trademarked dimpled smile and never ending supply of helpful household hints, was in reality a sardonic, man-obsessed competitive woman who could be helpful with a great tip for getting ink out of your tie one minute and doling out cruel, snide remarks the next.

‘And will someone tell me how in the blue skies of Kansas did Sue Ann escape being send down to HR on a sexual harassment complaint?’ Clark asked himself for the umpteenth time. ‘The way she looked at the men in the office as if they were a plate of hot Veal Orlov was positively obscene. I had to create a Completely-Klutzy-Clark-Being-Cornered-By-A-Cougar act to keep from being groped, er accidently brushed by her hand while reaching for the white-out. Thank goodness it worked. By the end of the first day working with her I had Miss Nivens feeling so sorry for her "Dear, sweet, naive Clark" she just had to take me under her wings and show me the ropes,’ he continued while finishing off the last of his house chores that had suffered while he was working on this article. ‘I learned so much about the Planet Lifestyle department and the interview techniques they use to tease as much information as possible out of something as mundane as a society wedding announcement.’

“All in all, I have never been so happy to leave such a wonderful learning environment. Having to make myself that clumsy for that length of time was so darn tiring,” Clark informed the bot working on the kinks in his back. “I almost spaced out during our monthly JLA meeting, now that I at least try to attend them again. Realizing that I needed some time off is why I flew out here to the Fortress to spend some time alone, well, with you guys.’

When he arrived at the Fortress Clark asked the consumables bot to make him a light lunch before heading down to what he liked to call ‘La Salon Krypton’ leaving a trail of uniform in his wake like a sleepy six-year old. By the time he reached the bathing and massage therapy area, which is the official name, Clark is totally undressed and ready for a good hot shower under some Kryptonian red solar radiation. Not something he does regularly because it does make him weaker but being under the conditions of his home planet does allow him to get a good hot relaxing shower that Clark can actually feel! After what seems like an hour under all that pounding hot water Clark lets the shower unit dry him off before lying down on the sonic massage table while the Fortress slowly brings the ambient radiation back up to solar yellow again.

Feeling both relaxed and rejuvenated, Clark sat up as the consumables bot bought in the cold pasta and seafood salad he’d ordered for dinner. Deciding that he deserved something special after putting up with Sue Ann and her antics for the better part of a month Clark plans on indulging after he eats. It’s not something he does often because Clark didn’t want to get into the habit and unconsciously indulge at home or in uniform. Sliding into a pair of comfortably worn jeans and a t-shirt Clark wanders out to his favorite spot in the Fortress, under the Crystal Dome. It’s an area deep in the Fortress not too far from where he accesses the AI of his birth parents, Jor-El and Lara. Clark likes this area, it’s crystal dome roof amplifies the sky above so that whoever is under it feels like they are flying high in the clouds during the day or through the stars at night.

Clark instructs the AI to cue up his favorite music in order to indulge in an activity too smooth and confident for poor klutzy Clark to ever manage and too sultry and sensuous for that paragon of justice, Superman to ever consider. He dances. Letting go and loosing himself in the music Clark moves his body through movements that would make Michael Jackson and Justin Timberlake proud to perform with him. Clark spent the rest of that afternoon indulging in his favorite guilty pleasure.

 

&^&^&^&^&^&^

June 28, 1999 Metropolis, DE

Arriving home much later that evening, Clark ran into Jai as she’s leaving her apartment.

“Hi Jai, good evening, on your way out to work?” he asked.

“Oh hi Clark, yes, I have the ‘late shift’ tonight. Hey, how are you doing with your article?” Jai retuned.

“I finished it and sent it off to my editor. Thanks for the interview and thank you for the idea,”

“Thanks for the idea? You got the idea for the article from me?” Jai returned, looking pleased.

“Yeah, I was having a hard time coming up with an original article for the Planet’s Founders’ Day series but when you asked me to come in to taste your soup then told me about what your job was doing in the community, it hit me. What about an article on what people who have recently moved to Metropolis are contributing to the city? My editor liked the idea so yeah, I kinda got the idea from you,” Clark answered, blushing at his own enthusiasm.

“Wow, I’m flattered, I’ve never been anyone’s muse before,” Jai laughed.

Smiling ruefully Clark knew he was still blushing but went ahead speaking as if his cheeks and ears were not flushed pink. “I really want to thank you for the, the inspiration and was wondering if you’re free Saturday after next ?”

Pulling out her PDA Jai checked her schedule before stating that she was indeed free that weekend.

“Why?”

“I’d like to take you out and give you a personalized tour of Metropolis, well of New Troy, anyway. I can answer any questions about the outer boroughs and if there is anything you’d like to see or visit, just make a list and I’ll take you there, okay?”

“You know, that sounds like a lot of fun, it’s a date, er, rather I’m free on that date and would like to see New Troy, with you, so yes,” Jai answered finally.

&^&^&^&^&^

 

July 10, 1999 Metropolis, DE

Early that morning, Clark knocked on Jai’s door with the plans of taking her out to breakfast before starting his tour of New Troy. Jai met him at the door wearing a denim skirt suit and a white nursing t-shirt with the initials RN placed inside a stylized Superman house shield.

“That’s an interesting shirt,” Clark remarked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Thanks, my director gave them to us to celebrate our opening a Metropolis office. In homage to Superman and our desire to be like him,” Jai answered, making sure she has her keys and cell phone.

“What do you mean by be like him?” Clark asks while escorting Jai out of the building.

“We strive to be like him, ya know using your special skills to help others, that kind of thing,” Jai answers following Clark down Clinton Street.

“Oh, that’s nice that all of you have been inspired by him and everything,” he stated steering Jai towards his favorite diner. He had been worried that Jai was a Superman fangirl; how awkward would that have been.

After breakfast Clark started the tour with a ride on the MetroBus line whose route took them downtown through the Financial District then up to Chinatown and Little Bohemia. After wandering around the eclectic shops and storefronts in Little Bohemia for a bit, Clark had them catch another MetroBus up Fifth Avenue to see Planet Square and the Daily Planet building where he works. Next, they walked the short way over to tour Glenmorgan Square, walking far enough to cross Bessolo Boulevard and see the Wireless City Movie Theater, and Topaz Lane where the newest show, The Lion in Winter has just opened. Hopping yet another bus, Clark, ever the meticulous tour guide, makes sure that Jai get to see the Halldorf Hotel Lacey's and Stacey's famous department stores as well as Spiffany's Jewelry Store. Jai, ever the former native New Yorker, strives not to make the comparisons as she tries to accept her new home on its own merits.

After looking into the display windows of several of the expensive stores along Fifth and Larson Avenues, Clark put them on the MetroBus whose route took them around the northern point of Centennial Park then down Metropolis’ Museum Mile passing the Metropolis Museum of Natural History, the Stubenhiemm Museum of Art, the Metropolis branch of the Jeffersonian Museum of Science, the Sagan Planetarium and the location of the still under construction Superman Museum.

Riding back downtown on the opposite side of the park they stay on this MetroBus until they get to the Metropolis University area where they get off to catch a late lunch at one of the chic new restaurant chains based on pop culture and movies, Star City Universe.

“Well, how do you like Metropolis so far?” Clark asks after the waiter leaves with their order.

“I’m liking her just fine. Feels sort of like home but with a different flava,” Jai answers smiling. “And thanks for the bus tour, I don’t think I could have done all that on foot.”

“Oh I don’t know, unlike New York Segways are legal here,” he smirked. Then with an almost unperceivable twitch, Clark let Jai know that he had to retire to the men’s room and that he would be out in a few.

“No problem, I’ll just sit here and watch the movie they have playing on the overhead. I think it’s one of the Die Hard movies.

Not long after Clark excused himself, there was the sound of crushing metal outside the restaurant as a car sideswiped a lamppost as it sped down the street followed by three police cars and wonder of wonders, Superman! The Man of Steel quickly flew past the police cars and swept the first car up off the pavement. He pulled some wires or something out from under the car, jostled it up and down, round and round a few times before dropping it non-too gently to the ground. Whoever it was inside stood no chance to escape or to give the police officers any problems as they tumbled out of the car sick and disoriented. The police made short work of hauling the men away while one took a statement from Superman, who flew off as soon as he could.

Jai was still grinning like a loon when Clark made his way back to their table.

“Wow, you must really like those Die Hard movies, you’re grinning and your eyes are sparkling,” He commented.

“No, well I do but no, I just saw Superman in action for my first time! It was so cool and everything,” Jai gushed.

“Yeah, he has that effect on everyone for the first few times,” Clark commented dryly

“I guess you’re use to him living here in Metropolis and being a reporter and all,” Jai chuckled

“I guess so, I have interviewed him once or twice, seems like a nice enough guy,” Clark answers as the waiter brings their order to the table.

They eat and share pleasant meal conversation, and then Clark pays their bill and escorts his guest back out onto the streets of Metropolis. While walking towards the bus that will take them home he remembered.

Hey, you never told me of anywhere special that you wanted to visit.”

“Clark, you’ve shown me so much of Metropolis, I don’t think I can come up with somewhere special,” Jai answered smiling

“Oh come on, there has to be somewhere you wanted to go, Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum, going on a WGBS-TV behind the scenes tour, chocolate tasting at the Willy Wonka Candy Factory? What?” Clark asked.

“Well, there is one address I was curious about. I mean you don’t have to take me there just let me know if the area is safe or not, especially at night,” Jai asked.

“Okay, what’s the address?”

Fishing through her bag to find the address Jai informs him that it’s 1502 Meriastor Avenue.

“Oh! That’s right over here around the next corner,” Clark answered walking that way. “As you can see the neighborhood’s not too bad, as a female you might not want to walk around here alone at night but it should be safe enough taking a cab here and catching one home after hours,” he continues.

“Uh, thanks Clark but I mean you don’t have to do this. You’ve taken me around so much today and this will just be more than…I mean it’s only a social club affiliated with one I belonged to in New York so you don’t …”

Clark stopped in front of the address Jai recited. The place is a more or less unassuming brick-face building not too different from all the others around it. The only thing that made it stand out was the four-foot by two-foot signage out front that consisted of a capitol M and a capitol B placed side by side and seemingly tied together with rope. He was about to ask about it when Clark heard a woman exclaim with happiness behind him.

“Oohhh, Countess, you made it, you’re here in Metropolis!” a rather pretty woman of color called out to Jai before scooping her up in a hug.

“Corvus! What are you doing here? You didn’t move too?”

“No, I’m here visiting Circe in her new place and checking out where she goes to teach and play. Who’s your friend? Are you being quick on the ball or is he the reason why you moved in the first place?” Corvus asked with a wink and a nod towards Clark.

“No Corvus, this is my friend and neighbor Clark Kent. He’s a reporter for the Daily Planet and he’s been giving me the newbie’s tour of Metropolis, or rather of New Troy, today,” Jai starts. “Clark, this is Lady Corvus, a good friend of mine from New York who did not call to say she was in town!”

“I was getting around to it, Sir just had me first. Pleased to me you Mr. Kent,” Corvus stated with a knowing smile.

“Please, it’s Clark. I'm glad to meet you. Hope you’re enjoying your visit to Metropolis.”

“Oh, I’m having a blast Clark,” she returns before continuing. “Countess, I’m gonna go inside to see Circe. Meet you in there in a few?”

“Yeah, I’ll be in there in a bit,” Jai tells Corvus. Turning to Clark and his slightly confused expression, Jai knows she has to say something.

“Clark, I wasn’t going to bring you here. I just wanted to know where here was.”

“Why, where are we?” Clark asked.

“Welcome to MetroBound, Metropolis’ largest pansexual BDSM education and social organization. I was a member of the Eulenspiegel Society, New Yorks’ oldest SM educational and social organization and am transferring my membership status here to MetroBound.”

At Clark’s look of shock and confusion Jai continues. “I’m a Domme, a dominant woman. I’m not ashamed of what I am or what I do. I just don’t tell everyone my business. Not everyone is open minded enough to comprehend the nature of SM. It’s nothing like most of the smut and porn out there, or the snide jokes and innuendo. It’s an approach to life and sex that includes an active and acknowledged exchange of power and sometimes the inclusion of strong sensations.

Clark continued to just look and blink at Jai while his mind tried to fit together all the pieces of this puzzle. His neighbor, nice lady who is a maternity nurse in an urban clinic, who works to feed and provide basic medical services to the homeless and working girls over on Mott Avenue, who makes a mean pot of soup and, from what it looks like, goes out to church on Sundays is also a Dominatrix?

“So, do you think differently about me now? Are you squicked out over my lifestyle choice?” Jai asked, hoping that she is not about to lose one of the few friends she has down here in Metropolis.

Clark just stood there for a few moments more, organizing his thoughts on the subject, causing Jai to expect the worse.

Finally Clark answers. “Do I think differently about you now that I know that you’re a dominant, that’s the word for being the sexual aggressor, right?”

“Yes, that’s one of the titles people use in the BDSM community or scene,” she answered slowly, “but it’s not just about sex or aggression. It’s about power and permission and surrender and service, and sex on occasion. SM is about relationships.”

“Well then, yes, I do think differently of you. Before I just knew that you are a nurse who worked in a maternity clinic as well as with the homeless and prostitutes, who goes to church on Sundays, and makes some of the tastiest soup I’ve had in a while. Now I know that I have someone I can talk to, a resource, no a contact, in this BDSM community that I can ask questions of if I come across anything like this when reporting on a story. I now know I can get another view point on any story I’m working on that has a BDSM slant to it and have a more balanced article then one that’s only influenced by smut, porn, snide jokes and innuendo,” he finished with a small smile.

“So every time you see me you’re not going to imagine me wearing a tight leather corset and flogging puppies are you?”

“Ahhh, no, not if I can help it,” Clark smiles blushing furiously as he now can’t not imagine her in a corset holding a flogger, “besides you have cats not puppies and they come across as quite dominant themselves,”

“Yes they are. So do you want to come inside and meet some more really interesting people?” Jai asks.

“If you don’t think they will mind, I mean I am a reporter,”

“Just don’t take notes or anything and if I catch you quoting something out of turn, remember I know where you live and I have floggers,” Jai threatened with a wicked smile.

“Then yes, I’d like to go inside with you.”

Inside, they meet the person working the reception desk this afternoon. She said to call her Mouze. Mouze is a cute little thing wearing furry brown ears and a matching collar who assists Jai in changing over her membership and was laminating her new MetroBound membership card when Lady Corvus walked into the reception area followed by a statuesque woman of Asian descent. Turning, Jai smiles and greets them with hugs and kisses.

“Circe, baby, it’s so good to see you; I was going to call either Thing 2 or SubBoy to get your number. I’m still unpacking all my small stuff, like my TES directory, and has my life ever been in a whorl since I moved,”

“Happens to the best of us. Well, welcome to Metropolis, Countess. I was going call you sooner myself but things have been crazy here too. MB is doing their first Night on Fire with several different people presenting their take on fire play. I’ve been trying to help coordinate and we almost had everything worked out when my Brigit had to call out. Her job needs her to go to Tokyo that week so I’m without a sub,” Circe explains.

“Damn, that’s a shame, Brigit loves fire and makes for a great demonstration model. What are you going to do?” Jai asked.

“I asked Cor if she could help,”

“And I’m already scheduled to present at the Interstate Masters and slaves Together convention that week so I can’t be her ‘Masochistic Domme Volunteer’,” Lady Corvus added.

“So I was thinking of canceling but now…Countess, dear, would you please be my ‘Masochistic Domme Volunteer’ for the fire play. My fire will look stunning dancing over your curves and complexion,” Circe pleaded.

“I’d like to say yes out of hat but my job has me working nights on occasion. Let me know the particulars and I’ll see what I can work out,” Jai answered. Turning to Clark, she asked him if he wouldn’t mind waiting a few minutes more while she gets this together.

“No problem, I’ll just wait right here,” he reassured her.

Once Jai and her friends have walked away, Clark took the time to look around the reception area and at the posters and flyers on the bulletin board and the post cards on the announcements table.

Clearing her throat Mouze tries to make small talk. “So you’re with the Countess?” she asks.

Turning around to face the other occupant in the room Clark makes the only reasonable answer he can conceive of, “huh?”

“I asked if you’re with the Countess, the woman you came in with.”

“Who? Oh, oh yeah, yes I’m with her.”

“So will you need a membership too? Cause if you are joining you could join together and get a couple’s discount…even if you aren’t, you know, a couple, a romantic couple, but you know, a D/s couple…”

“Oh NO! No, I’m just her friend and neighbor. She asked me to help her make sure this is a safe neighborhood for her being new in town and all,” Clark explains quickly.

“Okay, well good on you for being such a good neighbor,” Mouze encouraged.

Before either of them can limp along with more small talk, a striking, dynamic woman entered the room much to the delight of Mouze.

“Hey, give me a hug you perverted rodent!” the woman called affectionately to Mouze. “And who is this fine specimen of masculine bottom-hood?” she asked appreciatively appraising Clark.

“Oh no, he’s a friend of a new member, The Countess,” Mouze explained. “She’s transferring her membership from TES in New York and he came with her here to make sure that she was safe and all.”

“Well that was mighty nice of you. Hi, I’m Sparkie cause whenever I play the sparks fly, sometimes literally,” Sparkie said to Clark by way of introductions.

“Uh, hello, my name is Clark and I’m a reporter for the Daily Planet, but I’m not here to do a story or anything. I’m just here with my friend who is around here somewhere,” Clark responds wondering where Jai was and when she would return so that they could leave. And what did this Sparkie mean by fine specimen of masculine bottom-hood?

“Hey, are you that Clark Kent guy who wrote the article on LexCorp’s corporate malfeasance in satellite testing?”

“Uuhh, Yes, that was me,” Clark answered, a little taken aback as Sparkie leaped over the receptionist counter to walk towards him.

“Well, I just want to shake the hand of the man with the balls to take on Luthor and call him on his shit!” she exclaims doing just that. “Hey, we have a program where MetroBound educates journalist hoping to form a complimentary relationship with them.”

“Oh?” answers Clark expectantly.

Sparkie continues to describe the program to Clark, inviting him to participate. She even offers him a free pass to their next event.

“We’re putting on a Fire Play demonstration, I’ll be one of the presenters. Come, check us out and then you can see for yourself what we do and all,” she offers.

They discuss this a while longer and Clark agrees to become a member of the MetroBound Press Corp. He’s having his new MetroBound press pass laminated by Mouze when Jai returns with her friends. After thanking Clark for his patience she asks if he is ready to leave.

“Just about, I’m almost finished with the MetroBound’s Press Corp application. I was offered membership and accepted.” Clark answers.

“Wow, that’s wonderful Clark. It means I won’t be your only SM contact person anymore,” Jai mock pouts, “but you will have access to more education, information and opinions and stuff so I guess it’s alright,” she smiles to show that her words were meant in jest. She waits, chatting with Mouze while Clark completes all the forms required.

Once Clark’s finished, they thank Sparkie and Mouze then go outside where Jai offers to call them a taxi.

“You don’t have to do that, I’m taking you out today,” Clark protested.

“And you just went with me inside Metropolis’ premier BDSM organization of your own volition and joined its press corps so call the ride home my ‘thank you’,” Jai smiles.

A short but friendly argument ensues with the two of them deciding to split the cost of the ride home. Inside the taxi on the ride back to the apartment Clark reflects on the success of his Founder’s Day article and his new contacts in the BDSM community. If nothing else, his strange new neighbor has been great for his career.


	7. Revealings and Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title: Strands 7/37: Revealings and Revelations  
> Author: Ladyblkrose  
> Beta: me_ya_ri  
> Characters: Bruce Wayne/Kevin S. Rhodes, Clark Kent/Superman, Jai Baker, Fendi Baker, Prada Baker   
> Continuity: DCU/Marvel Strands AU   
> Ratings: R for mentions of sexual paraphilias this chapter, NC-17 overall  
> Warnings: mentions of consensual BDSM and deals with past underage non-con  
> Word Count: 6,976  
> Disclaimer: The characters you recognize belong to DCU, Warner Bros, and Marvel respectively. If they were mine there would be a lot more sex and SM involved for sure.  
> Summary: It is learned that people are not what they appear to be…what will be done with this knowledge and who will benefit from it?
> 
> A/N: This story takes in the same ‘verse as putigress2012 ‘s “Get Out” (NSFW) as a sequel and was created and posted with her permission.

June 11, 1999 - Gotham City, NJ

Working on finding his Clark’s abusers, especially that damned Doppelganger, became Bruce’s priority case, the case that is first on his mind when he wakes each day and the last case he works on before going to bed. As part of this effort, Bruce concentrated on his surveillance of Clark’s activities, hypothesizing that there may be patterns in Clark’s present behavior that will lead to an understanding of what initiated his pain and thus being able to trace that pain back to its instigator. Bruce is especially looking for patterns of Edge’s prior pedophilia so he can use the past pattern to find present behavior.

Yes, Morgan Edge is a pedophile, and people like that don’t sexually molest a single child for shits and giggles. No, that behavior is indicative of something deep down being seriously broken. It is indicative of a pattern of behaviors that speaks of repetition. Like most paraphilias, pedophilia is a lot like mocha dark chocolate truffles, you can’t stop at just one. Bruce didn’t know if the then seven-year-old Clark was the first child Edge molested, but he inevitably wasn’t the last. All Bruce needed to do was find proof of Edge’s crimes and bring him in for them. Not only will the courts bury him so deep in a hole that the guards would have to bring him sunshine in a bucket, but his old guard organized crime associates will abandon him if not take out a contract on him themselves. Most of these old guards are family men with children and grandchildren of their own. Having a pedophile as an associate will not go over with them.

“And Edge will deserve every single minute he spends in protective incarceration, all alone, with even the correction officers shunning him,” Bruce grates in Batman’s graveled rasp.

Bruce also hoped to discover the identity of this Doppelganger creature as well as to capture it. That creature was playing on his Clark’s pain for its own benefit. Bruce didn’t care if this could possibly be the way the creature gained sustenance like a psychic vampire, or if the creature was just a sadistic asshole, it has to stop. A being who can become anyone makes for a very difficult quarry; good thing Bruce loves a challenge.

Regardless of the initial reasons for increasing his surveillance, listening in on Clark and his life had become one of Bruce’s favorite activities. He listened in during his ride to and from the office. He listened in when sitting at his desk reviewing boring paperwork. He listened in before going out on patrol and again when filling in his nightly post-patrol reports. He would have listened in during meal times but Alfred put his foot down at surveillance devices at the dinner table.

For the next twenty four days, Bruce listened as Superman got the alert on the Ho’d and then flew off to join the rest of the League to oppose them. Bruce listened as Superman rushed off during his week to take care of his usual horde of local criminals, including the Prankster. He didn’t envy him that job. As a criminal opponent, the Prankster is a real pain in the ass with all his lame jokes, tricks and shit.

Listening in, Bruce heard when Perry White approved of his Clark’s story for the Planet’s Founder’s Week, giving Clark the privilege of being the last journalist published that week.

“He likened it to being the Zamboni driver at a winning Mammoths game,” Bruce chuckled to himself.

He listened in while his Clark told his mother, Martha, everything that happened at work. Listened when his Clark interviewed his neighbor, Jai Baker and her Director Elena Biggins at the woman’s health center Ms. Biggins opened recently in Metropolis, listened while his Clark interviewed what seemed like a representative of every cultural group and organization in Metropolis including Amazons from Themyscira who had recently opened a Metropolis-based woman’s empowerment center.

Bruce listened and laughed as his Clark worked with Sue Anne Nivens and her Lifestyle department grunts. He had heard that Sue Ann was a shrewd operator but he didn’t know what a bitch she was to work with. The way she harassed the men at the Planet made him wonder why she hadn’t been written up for her totally inappropriate behavior. If he owned the Planet, savvy lifestyle editor or not, she would have been reprimanded, if not out and out fired. Especially with the way she treated his Clark, groping and goosing him like a piece of meat that first day they worked together.

“But my Clark rectified that dynamic. He played on her sympathies like they were a Stradivarius and his name was Nicolo Paganini,” Bruce stated to the bats in the Cave that night.

Bruce listened up until the time his Clark flew off to his Fortress of Solitude up in the Artic. The AI in the Fortress blocked all extraneous radio, cellular, and tracer/surveillance signals to protect itself from discovery and hacking. Bruce had to wait hours before Clark returned home. Hours he used to concentrate on his case against Clark’s remaining human abusers, Oliver Queen and Morgan Edge.

Deciding that there was a very good chance he was never going to find a chink in the armors of either man, Bruce planned on exploiting what weaknesses he knew were present in their psyches. Taking down Oliver Queen will be easy because for Queen, his weakness is his huge ass ego. In the dictionary next to the word arrogant you will find a picture of Oliver’s smirking I’m-Mr.-Highly-Enlightened face. The difficult portion of bringing Queen to justice is the fact that they’re both founding members of the League and it would be bad form for one member to attack another, either in uniform or in civilian life, without adequate provocation. And though Queen’s actions against his Clark would be considered adequate provocation by every other member of the League, Bruce refused to air his Clark’s business to the men and women he works with. Bruce would have to take down Queen very discretely and personally, which was perfectly fine with him.

As for Edge, capturing Edge all came back to his pedophilia. It’s something permanent and hard to hide. He will slip up one day soon and I will be there to catch you Edge.

“Bank on it!” Bruce promised.

 

&^&^&^&^&

 

June 28, 1999 - The Cavern Systems beneath Stately Wayne Manor, Gotham City, NJ

Bruce, being more a creature of habit then he is comfortable admitting, was sitting at his main computer console down in the Cave listening to the last bit of real time surveillance he would have a chance to analyze before leaving on patrol. He didn’t have to worry about Dick running in on him while he listened to Clark’s activities. Dick left this afternoon for the Titian’s Tower, planning on spending the summer leading his team. Bruce smiled with pride; the son of his heart was growing into such a man, a man who dealt with this life so much better than he ever has.

Sitting up Bruce reaches for his note pad as he heard his Clark and his neighbor, this Jai Baker, making plans to get together on July 10th.

“He’s giving her a _tour_ of Metropolis, huh!” Bruce grunts. “At least _she_ knows it’s not a date.”

Knowing his Clark the way he does, Bruce knows that’s this Jai is going to have a day-long intensive tour of all that New Troy has to offer. This is perfect as it gives him all the time he needs as he began making plans. He had already purchased Clark’s apartment building through one of Wayne Enterprises subsidiaries so it made sense that the new owners would want to inspect and upgrade the security and safety measures in their new property. By making himself a member of that security and safety technician team, Bruce would be able to place as many surveillance units as he needed in this Jai Baker’s apartment with no one being the wiser. This woman, either she is part of his Clark’s problem, or she could be a part of his recovery. It all depends on what Bruce learns from his surveillance.

By the time Batman left for patrol that night his service worker undercover personality, Kevin S. Rhodes, a recently hired service technician at Ergonomic Risk Relief, Inc. was scheduled to work on July 10, 1999 in the first floor apartments of 344 Clinton Street, Metropolis DE inspecting and upgrading their security and safety features.

 

^&^&^&^&^&^

 

July 10, 1999 Metropolis, DE

Ten o’clock in the morning saw Kevin Rhodes and the five other service technicians from ERR, Inc. gathered outside Urban Innovations Management’s most recently acquired property in Metropolis, DE. Although he was assured of being the tech for the first floor, Kevin needed to get into apartment 3D to update the equipment in Clark Kent’s place. Walking over to Douglas Maximov, the third floor tech, Kevin asked him to inspect apartment 1F, a studio unit, for him in exchange he would inspect a one bedroom on the third floor.

“I know the site supervisor told us he don’t like for us to change jobs or nothing but the lady in 1F’s got a bird, a big ole bird that she don’t keep in a cage or nothing. I can work with most animals but birds…” Kevin explains shuddering slightly. “And she lives in a studio so there’s not even another room for me to ask her to put the damn thing while I do the inspection.”

“I don’t know,” temporizes Douglas, “Gene really doesn’t like having his schedule changed.”

“I know, I know and I’m not trying to change his schedule, I’m only asking you to exchange one unit. And look, I’m not only willing to inspect a larger unit, but I’ll throw in the hall smoke and CO monitors too,” Kevin offers.

Knowing a good deal when he hears one, Douglas agrees but only if they do the switch while Gene is out getting his breakfast.

Hurrying up to the third floor Kevin popped in his earphones to listen to his favorite program, As Clark Kent’s World Turns. Using the master keys given to them by the super, Kevin opens the door to 3D and walks inside. Bruce Wayne had only been inside of his Clark’s place once or twice in person but his previous surveillance provided him with enough information that it felt as if he’d been in this place millions of times.

Looking around Kent’s disorganized living space he can recognize all sentimental bits of his personal life decorating the apartment. There on the kitchen table are the salt, pepper shaker, and butter bell set must have come from Smallville since they don’t make stuff like that in Metropolis or Gotham. In what must be his working area, there is a bookcase Kent must have made by hand sitting next to a desk set that looks like it was bought at a yard sale. Walking further inside, Kevin ran his hand along the handmade quilted throw used to cover the used couch. Sitting on a shelf in the living room is a beautiful specimen of pearlized brain coral Kent received from Arthur Curry as well as one of a pair of stoneware urns he received from Diana Troy. These items were some of the gifts Kent had received from members of the Justice League his last birthday. Kevin wondered if Kent still has the cufflinks he gave him, or did he throw them away when Bruce fuck up and hurt him so horribly.

Shaking himself out of this train of thought, Kevin swiftly completed the apartment safety inspection so he’ll have the time to complete his upgrades on the apartment bugs. While he worked, Kevin continued to listen to Kent teach this Jai woman about the settling of Metropolis and New Troy while riding on a MetroBus, from the sounds around them they are heading downtown towards the Financial District.

Finishing the kitchen and living room, Kevin moved on to Kent’s bedroom to upgrade the smoke detector as well as replacing two of the audio/visual bugs in there. While doing so, Kevin listened to Kent and that Jai woman wander around the shops in Little Bohemia. Looking at his watch, Kevin knew that he has to hurry up. He still had to complete the update of the tracker program on Kent’s laptops that will continue to allow him to monitor what he does with his computer on and offline.

By the time Kent and that Jai woman are on another bus heading uptown as Kent wants to show her where he works at the Daily Planet Kevin is cleaning, resetting and placing video bugs in the smoke detector in the hallway across from Kent’s apartment door.

Returning to the first floor Kevin passed Douglas on his way to the elevator. It seemed to have taken Douglas as long to finish the bird owner’s one studio apartment as it took him to inspect and update Kent’s one bedroom unit as well as clean and update the A/V bugs in the hall smoke alarm. Bird feather dander is a real bitch to clean out of the detectors and vents which is the excuse why Kevin switched that apartment for Kent’s unit. Getting down to business on the first floor, Kevin began working in apartment 1E, the other studio, while listening to Kent introduces that Jai woman to the Saturday staff at the Planet.

In unit 1D, a one bedroom, he listened to Kent and that Jai woman as they toured around Glenmorgan Square and Bessolo Blvd. While inspecting unit 1C, the other one bedroom, he listened to them as they window shopped around the famous stores on Fifth and Larson Avenues.

In unit 1B, a two bedroom, Kevin listened, smiling as he can hear the embarrassment in Kent’s voice as he replied to something that Jai woman said about the still under construction Superman Museum building. He knew Kent didn’t feel right about there being a museum dedicated to his exploits as Superman.

“I mean there are so many real heroes, folks who risk their lives putting out fires or stopping criminals who don’t have the benefit of being invulnerable or flying or anything. They should be recognized, not Superman!” Kevin heard Kent explain to Jai.

Kent just doesn’t understand. By the very fact that he holds that sentiment, Kent shows what a standard bearer he is. What an example of going out of your way to help others without any compensation what so ever is supposed to look like. Kent just won’t accept that Superman is what most other heroes and superheroes use as their exemplar.

Kevin was almost finished with 1B, having fended off the elderly woman who lived there and her repeated offers of tea cakes, water, a sandwich, soda, coffee, and blow-jobs, and decided to work on the smoke and CO detectors in the hallway before working on Jai Baker’s two-bedroom unit in1A.

He was about to enter Jai Baker’s apartment as Kevin hard the bus she and Kent were on rounding Centennial Park and was heading down towards University Square.

“If nothing else after today that Baker woman will know how to get around New Troy on mass transit,” Kevin grunted.

After opening the door Kevin walked inside, slowly, and set his toolbox down on the floor. From the reports he received Kevin knew that this Jai woman has two cats. From his interactions with the various women and the cats they have owned Kevin knew that cats come in four basic flavors when they meet new people. Its either; ‘run, run before it eats me’, ‘oh look another hairless ape to cater to my every whim’, ‘Oh it’s just a human, nothing important, or ‘how dare you come into my den!’. Smiling, Kevin walks into the challenge.

“I am in place Fendi, high enough to see this new TomMeow’s actions when you test him,” Prada yawls from the top of the living room bookcase. “Now we can see what manner of TomMeow this sneaky one is. Is he the ‘Oh my God, it’s a cat, ewww run’ type, the ‘fucking sneaky fur-ball, I hate cats!’ type or the ‘here kitty, kitty’ with or the ‘here kitty, kitty without treats’ TomMeow,” Prada gruulls.

“Wonderful Prada, now have a care and warn me if he pulls a weapon out of his metal box of tools. I do not want to get hit on the head by a wrench if he is one of the hateful, fearful TomMeows,” Fendi growls to her sister and littermate.

Growling deeply in her throat, the small orange tabby approached Kevin, head low, tail switching sharply, hissing, fully intent on protecting her territory. Never taking his eyes off his tiny attacker Kevin reached down to his toolkit, opening it up and reaching for a remedy to this situation.

“Careful Fendi, he is reaching into his metal box of tools,” Prada warns with a growl of her own.

Slowing even more as the cat in front of him readies herself to launch an attack, Kevin moved his hand around the CO and radon detectors, gas sniffer, smoke alarm parts, A/V bugs to grasp the box of catnip smoked salmon treats.

“Hey, I hear that even Catwoman swears by these things so they must be really great tasting,” Kevin tells the orange tabby in his most soothing voice.

He tossed several fragrant chunks of fish treats towards his potential attacker, hoping that the cat will take the bait and not try to take a bite out of him. One largish bit rolls right under the cat’s nose.

“Oh my…Oh, oh, oh my!” Fendi exclaimed with a murrup.

“What is it? Sister, what is the matter?” Prada meyowlls from her post on top of the bookcase.

“This, this wondrous bit of heaven,” Fendi answered. “This this smells of crazy-crazy grass and sweet pink fish, together!”

He watched her try to resist the enticing smell of the fish treat before diving in nose first and scooping it up into her mouth. Taking this as a good sign, Kevin emptied more treats into the top of a jar he had in his toolbox and slid it over to the cat then watched her begin to devour the smoked fish snacks.

“Prada, Prada you have to come down and eat this. It is marvelous, the most wonderful fish I have ever eaten!” Fendi calls with a growl that in no way hinders her eating.

Seeing that they have the information they were seeking about this new TomMeow she and Fendi had been instructed by both their Meow and by “Him” to watch out for, Prada saw no reason for her to miss out on the fish snacks Fendi was raving about. While he didn’t actually make the ‘here kitty, kitty’ mouth noises, this new TomMeow did come bearing snacks, and what sound like tasty fishy snacks at that.

Kevin found himself smiling as in no time both cats are crowding around the lid eating and making that growling chewing noise cats make when they are pleased with what they are eating but still in the presence of an unknown. He walked out of the apartment to retrieve his ladder before securing the door behind him. Now is not the time to have one of his co-workers walk in on his _inspection_.

Speaking of which, Kevin walks into the kitchen to get the appliance inspection out of the way first. He doesn’t expect for there to be any problems as this is a newly rented apartment so any necessary repairs should have been completed before this Jai woman moved in ten weeks, one day, and thirty-six hours ago. While he completed this task, he tuned into what Kent and that Jai woman were up to so far on Kent’s tour of Metropolis. Kevin heard Kent ask,

“Well, how do you like Metropolis so far?” to the sounds of a waiter leaving with an order for lunch. From the sounds around them, it sounds like Kent took that Jai woman to a Star City Universe restaurant. The only member of that chain along their last direction of travel is in University Square downtown.

“I’m liking her just fine,” Kevin hears Jai answer. “Feels sort of like home but with a different flava, and thanks for the bus tour, I don’t think I could have done all that on foot.”

“Oh, I don’t know, unlike New York Segways are legal here,” Kent replied. Leave it to Kent to point out as many positives as possible, Kevin thinks to himself as he replaced the smoke alarm in the kitchen with one of his upgraded A/V bug equipped models.

Walking into the living room area, he takes note of the neat earth-toned decorated room looking for the perfect location to secret more A/V bugs. He needed to place them in just the right locations in order to keep track of any activities taking place both in this room and in the short hallway connecting the living room to the bedrooms and bathroom. Identifying the best locations for his units, Kevin quickly installs them while listening to Kent make a quick exit to the men’s room in Kent’s Superman exit strategy voice. His correct assumption is rewarded with a time of prolonged silence as Kent has placed his clothes, cell phone and their bugs somewhere secure while he takes care of whatever emergency’s pulled him away from his tour guide duties.

“She’d better get used to Kent having a _sensitive constitution_ and making many prolonged trips to the men’s room if she plans on becoming a part of his life versus using Kent as someone she can dump her cats on when she has to go out of town like the rest of them in this damn building,” Kevin growls.

“What’s got up his tail?” Prada merowls to Fendi.

“Who knows with TomMeows. Maybe he’s frustrated that our Meow is not here for him to communicate with,” Fendi answers after cleaning her whiskers of the last specks of smoked fishy snack.

“More likely he’s frustrated that our Meow is not here for him to sniff around and possibly try to yowl with. Is she in estrus again? I swear these Meows spend most of their time either going in or coming out of estrus. No wonder they need such careful caretaking,” Prada sniffs delicately.

Looking down from his perch near the wall unit where he’s installing the second visual bug for the room, Kevin saw that the cats have finished their snack and were staring up at him expectantly.

“If you’re good I’ll leave you more when I leave,” he promises them. The cats continue to stare.

By the time Kevin had climbed down his ladder and snapped on latex gloves in order to make a quick but thorough search of the living room he heard that Jai woman gush to Kent,

“I just saw Superman in action for my first time! It was so cool and everything.”

Whatever Superman had to handle must have been visible from the restaurant, lucky for the patrons but not so lucky for Kent. He knew Kent wasn’t comfortable dealing with fangirls, of any age.

“Yeah, he has that effect on everyone for the first few times,” Kent commented dryly

See!

Smirking at this Jai’s flagging chances at becoming part of Kent’s life in any significant manner if she continued this behavior, Kevin started his search by taking pictures of this woman’s extensive CD and DVD collections. Kent and Jai’s food had arrived by the time he was settling down the couch cushions to go investigate what appeared to be an altar on a shelf of the entertainment unit.

While listening in on Kent and that Jai’s inane lunch conversation, Kevin finished his search of the living room and bathroom.

“Why do women feel the need for so many bathing products?” he asked the cat who watched him as he catalogued its mistress’ long list of body wash and hair products. “I mean, I do perfectly well with two brands of body wash and shampoo. Hell, all you use is your tongue! What, do they change soaps according to their moods or something?”

The cat just stared at him.

“At least she has the good sense not to keep her meds in here, but I guess she’d not do that being a nurse and all,” he commented just to say something. Damn cat, staring at him like it’s really listening with understanding, or trying to tell him something.

Leaving the bathroom, Kevin walks across the hall into the larger bedroom and was surprised to see that this Jai woman hadn’t taken it as her bedroom but had instead turned it into a library home office.

“Well I see she likes to read,” he comments to the cat following him around as he takes note of the large number of bookcases lining the walls of the room.

Taking the time to figure out the best placement for surveillance equipment, Kevin began taking pictures of all the books.

“Let’s see, she has almost a whole case of religious books, shelves of nursing and medical books, of course, a shelf and a half of self-help books like the rest of America, several shelves of African-American studies and commentaries, and shelves and cases filled with speculative fiction,” he relates as he begins recording the information for future study. “She reads everything from the good serious authors like Asimov and Bester through fantasy; at least she has some of the classics there, Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. But then her stuff just sinks down into the usual tripe people call science fiction. Awww damn, she even reads paranormal romances, for fuck's sake,” he scowled.

“How dare he make comments on our Meow’s paper tales? She spends many an hour reading those tales and giving good scritches of the head and belly. Barbarian snob!” Fendi snorts elegantly.

“What? Yeah, I bet you like anthropomorphic cats and bunny rabbits running around having adventures or vampires who live off of love and blood and the like! I bet you’re both female,” Kevin accuses.

The cat stared at him. It’s starting to creep him out.

It’s in this room that Kevin finds Jai’s home computer. Donning another pair of gloves, he boots up her system, bypasses her ridiculous excuse for security and uploads the program that will trace all her recent online activity, down load her hard drive and leave a back door open that will allow continued close scrutiny of all her computer activities from saving recipes to searching for the Holy Grail online if she’s into that sort of thing. And from the examples of her reading material, she just might be.

As Kevin began searching the room more thoroughly he discovered that what he thought was a book case full of nick-knacks was instead a murphy bed. He also found a locked barrister bookcase. Easy enough to open. Inside there were books and magazines of a more _adult_ nature.

“An altar in the living room, religious books on the shelves and porn locked away in a bookcase. What other inconsistencies are you hiding, Ms. Baker?”

“Or maybe she is but a single QueenMeow of Faith with no Tom of her own for comfort and yowls to help her cope with your species’ rapid estrus cycles!” yowlps Fendi indignantly.

Hearing his feline escort comment on his actions, again, Kevin refuses to turn to look. He just takes pictures of all the titles, closes and relocks the case. Bringing his ladder into the room, he updates the smoke and CO alarms in this room, with his personal additions of course, and plants an additional visual bug to capture what happens whenever someone is at the computer.

Leaving that room, he enters the smaller of the two bedrooms, the one this Jai woman has claimed as her own. Walking inside he noted that this Jai must have left in something of a hurry ‘cause this room’s not as neat as the rest of the apartment. Looking around for the best place to install his bugs, Kevin begins to poke about the room. If anyplace in this apartment will tell him the most about its occupant, it’s this room.

Bringing in his ladder, Kevin updated the smoke and CO alarms with the A/V bugs in them.   
Next, working from the far side of the room Kevin opens the closet to find controlled chaos. Inside was the usual assortment of clothing you’d expect to find in a professional woman’s closet. It was in the wardrobe next to the closet that Kevin got the surprise, it was filled with costuming. Capes, corsets, skirts, kilts, dresses, Medieval and Renaissance garb, what looked like a Klingon’s uniform and other such stuff.

“Thought she was more mature than this with her age and being a nurse and all but I guess age and profession are not important for folks into cosplay,” he quips.

Returning to his search of the room, Kevin opens the huge ceiling to floor armoire all but taking up one wall by itself. Inside he finds more clothes sorted by season and some serious lingerie. Bustiers, push-up bras, waist cinchers, more corsets, garter belts, lacy night shirts and gowns. He is entranced by the colors, all that are in the rainbow plus several that never existed in nature, and the fabrics, satin, silk, lace, leather… Talking to the cat he knows is still watching him, Kevin finds himself commenting:

“I guess this is an extension to Rule 34. If lingerie exists, there is someone who will make it in whatever size or color you want it.

Walking over to her dresser, Kevin begins to open the jewelry box when one of the cats, probably his tail for the afternoon, jumps up next to box and glares at him.

“If you remove one piece of our Meow’s adornments I will bite and scratch you severely,” Fendi warns with Prada adding her growls of agreement.

Damn, watch cats. How in the hell did she train them to do this? “Look cats, I’m just looking, okay? I really don’t need any of this stuff, I’m just taking a look-see, right?” Kevin pleads teasingly, mostly, as he takes a quick inventory of the jewelry. It’s mostly good costume stuff with a few pieces of the good stuff mixed in, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that a professional woman wouldn’t have in her jewelry collection.

Leaving her jewelry and glaring cats alone, Kevin worked his way through the draws of the dresser, searching through sweaters, shirts, sweat clothing, scarves and bandanas. He leaves the drawer with underwear for last. He plans on searching that one more carefully since this is where most women keep important papers and the like.

Opening up this woman’s underwear drawer is like opening up another rainbow. There are bras and panties in every conceivable color of the spectrum in solids and patterns, in cotton, satin, silk and lace.

“Okay, since you’re here maybe you cats can answer me a question. What with the buying bras and panties in sets? You never see us guys buying or wearing matching boxers and undershirts. I mean, it’s nice when you see them but nine times outta ten no one is gonna see them so what gives?” he asks the cats who are weirdly paying him way more attention than they did when he was looking through Jai’s shirts or scarves.

“Beauty is bought and appreciated for one self and not just for the visual enjoyment of you TomMeows,” is Prada’s answering meowlp.

“If this TomMeow is one of the strange one’s who takes a Queen’s undercoverings, I am going for his eyes. I have no idea what they do with them but Neyoki, also known as Patches reports, that this has happened to her QueenMeow when strange TomMeows have entered their dwelling,” Fendi growlps “but I do not think it is to wear. TomMeows are made too differently for that to be comfortable. It must be something unsavory or they would simply purchase them on their own.”

“And our Meow’s undercoverings would not fit him if to wear them were his aim, she has much grander and softer curves then he has,” adds Prada.

Running his gloved hands slowly over the colorful panties one last time, to resettle them back in place, Kevin closes the drawer perturbed.

“Well she doesn’t keep her papers in her underwear drawer, so where does she keep them I wonder?” he asks out loud.

He checks the vanity dresser for answers.

“Well, I’ve found where she keeps her prescription meds, this may be where she keeps other items of importance.”

Searching through drawers of lotions, perfumes, body sprays, make-up, brushes and sponges, Kevin came up empty on the important papers. Closing the last drawer of just Mary Kay products Kevin even checks to see if the top of the bench she used as a vanity seat lifted up to provide hidden storage. It didn’t. Two last places to search, the bedside table and under the bed.

Opening up the top drawer of the bedside table only gave him drawer full of chargers, a small Bible, pens, papers of no real importance and an open packet of cough drops. The bottom drawer proved more interesting. In it was a small but varied collection of sex toys, lube and baby wipes.

“Well, either she’s a very good bad girl, or a very bad good girl. Which is it, cats?”

The cats just stared at him.

Last place to search was under the bed. Getting down on his knees and lifting up the end of the bed covers Kevin spotted a bed long storage chest. Pulling it out, he donned yet another fresh pair of latex gloves and opened up the chest.

“Oh my God! You are _so_ a very bad good girl,” he crooned in surprise.

In right half of the chest are riding crops, rattan canes, acrylic canes, paddles, a quirt and a galley whip. In the left half of the chest were floggers, bondage rope, leather manacles, a few hand cuffs, and several boxes. Most held nipple clips, clothes pins, bamboo skewers and small rubber bands. In one of the boxes are the elusive important papers, bank books, insurance papers, birth certificate, passport and nursing license all in the name of JaiMarie Denise Baker.

At some small noise, Kevin looks up to see both of JaiMarie Denise Baker’s cats staring at him intensely. Again, it’s like they’re trying to tell him something telepathically, but were sorely disappointed that he didn’t get the message.

“He doesn’t look disgusted or afraid does he? I still have problems telling a TomMeow’s expressions when they have had a shock,” Prada roowlls at Fendi.

“No, I think he is just surprised and maybe a little excited. I don’t understand the reaction to our Meow’s secret cache of leather, wood, metal and hemp. When her Mother found them, the look on her face, I thought she was going to collapse and be in need of resuscitation!” Fendi merps back to Prada.

“And then there was the time our Meow showed these items to her QueenMeow not-mate. She became excited as well but in the good manner. I remember that she and our Meow gathered several of these items and left her Mother’s home with them,” Prada remembered.

“Yes, our Meow came home much later that night smiling and as happy as if she had experienced a good Yowl!” Fendi commented. “There are still so many strange things these Meows of ours engage in.”

Smiling to himself, Kevin closed the storage chest and slid it back under the bed. This relationship was all but over; the only thing missing was the singing and flowers. Taking his ladder back up front, Kevin stopped to collect the flash drive with Jai Baker’s hard drive copied on it from her library and continued out to the living room. When in the hallway, Kevin noticed that one of his bugs was partially visible from this vantage point, at least if you know what to look for and even if this Jai woman and Kent never progress beyond simple friendship, Kent might ask to use her bathroom one day and on walking back out to the living room would see and know what was planted on her book case.

Actively listening in on Kent and that Jai woman’s conversation, he realizes that they have left the restaurant and are back out on the street talking to one another. He heard Kent ask her,

“Hey, you never told me of anywhere special that you wanted to visit.”

“Clark, you’ve shown me so much of Metropolis, I don’t think I can come up with somewhere special,” that Jai woman answered sounding way too happy. But Kent was persistent.

“Oh come on, there has to be somewhere you wanted to go, Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum, going on a WGBS-TV behind the scenes tour, chocolate tasting at the Willy Wonka Candy Factory? What?”

He heard that Jai woman tell Kent about an address that she was interested in, but only asked if that area is safe for a lone woman to walk around in at night. He knew the organization at that address! Using the time during this conversation to locate a better, more secure location for the bug, he grinned at the cat watching him from the living room couch.

“I may have wasted my time installing all of these damn bugs as your mistress is just about to ruin any chance at being anything other than a friendly face at the mailbox.”

Climbing the ladder to uninstall the visible bug Kevin listened as that Jai woman was greeted by some friends calling her Countess, of all things. And that Corvus woman asking about Kent,

“I can feel Kent’s blush from here.”

Climbing down the to move the unit to a more secure location Kevin listened to that poor Jai woman explain what type of establishment she had bought him too. Then to the silence on Kent’s end of the conversation. Moving the ladder to the more secure location Kevin listened to that Jai explain that,

“I’m a Domme, a dominant woman. I’m not ashamed of what I am or what I do. I just don’t tell everyone my business.” And how SM is nothing like the commercially published smut and porn or the snide jokes and innuendo of popular movies and crap.

Kevin climbed his ladder to the sound of silence as again Kent let his end of the conversation hit the concrete again. He listened to that Jai woman ask hopelessly if Kent thought differently of her now that she’d just told a corn-fed salt-of-the-earth farm boy that she’s a Dominatrix, and from Kent, more silence. Kevin was wondering how Kent was going to let this Jai woman down and what excuse he was going to use to get the hell outta there.

He actually had to move the unit again as Kevin noted the large amount of cat hair at his new location. A video bug is of no use if all it records is cat butt. While working on yet another location for his bug he heard Kent make the best of a bad situation by accepting Jai’s predilection of BDSM as the opportunity to gain a contact inside the community. Leave it to Mr. Optomistic to make lemonade out of leather clad lemons. He even responds to poor Jai’s joke about him promising not to imagine her wearing a tight leather corset, like the ones in her armoire, and flogging puppies.

“Ahhh, no, not if I can help it,” Kent answers, and Kevin can literally see him blush as red as a tomato as he answered, “besides you have cats, not puppies and they come across as quite dominant themselves.”

While chuckling at Kent’s save, Kevin had just finished installing the video bug in its new location when he heard…well he heard…something he never thought he’d hear in a lifetime of having ears. That woman actually had the nerve to invite the sweet, innocent, naive Clark Kent into an SM Club! And he said, he answered, Kent actually said,

“Yes, I’d like to go inside with you.”

WHAATHUUUMP!

“Oh my, he fell! What could have caused him to fall like that,” Prada asked, rushing over to the strange TomMeow’s side.

“I am not sure, he was so happy but a moment ago,” Fendi answered, joining her sister at the TomMeow’s side as well.

Slowly opening his eyes, the first thing Kevin saw were the cats, staring down at him, looking oddly concerned.

“I’m okay,” Kevin reassures them as he gets up off the floor with a soft groan of both pain and embarrassment.

Turning off his receiver as he heard that Jai woman begin to talk to someone of Asian descent, Kevin felt that he had gotten enough of a shock for today and will review the rest of the recording later, at home, where its safe. After checking each room to ensure that he left everything as it was when he walked in, Kevin gathered up equipment, preparing to leave.

He had checked out the apartment for safety and installed enough A/V bugs to ensure that he would keep a close eye on this woman and her influence over Kent. Someone had to. She was going to either open up his eyes and wise him up the ways of the world, or corrupt the poor man beyond all recognition, and it was his job to record every sordid moment of it.


End file.
